Author Archives: Thandar

That evening, the village head personally went door to door, notifying the heads of each household to gather at Jiang Ji’s courtyard the next morning around midmorning.

“Village Head, what’s this meeting about? Did something big happen in the village?”

“Yeah, why aren’t we meeting at the ancestral hall? Why at Jiang Ji’s place?”

Explaining one by one would take too long, so the village head simply tossed out a tempting hint: “High-yield rice seeds! They can double production. First come, first served—if you miss out, you’ll regret it.”

“High-yield rice? Seriously?”

“You’ll find out if you come!”

The news spread quickly. Every household was buzzing with a mix of excitement and doubt, going to bed full of curiosity.

That night before bed, Jiang Ji went out to the courtyard and updated the title of his livestream:

[Shock! Introducing New Crops — Watch How Ancient People React to New Things!]

Since unlocking the “seed” reward item, he had replaced all his other reward options with seeds. There were only seven reward slots available, so Jiang Ji chose hybrid rice, sweet potatoes, corn, potatoes, cotton, peanuts, and soybeans.

Over the past few days, his livestream viewership had been exploding, with daily totals reaching two to three million people. On the days he built the flush toilet, the numbers had even peaked at four million.

He had asked his viewers about it—turned out that day had been a weekend, and the number of gifts and donations had also spiked.

So, he decided to schedule the seed-promotion meeting for another weekend.

“Alright, my friends,” Jiang Ji said cheerfully on stream, “I’ve got a mission to hit five million viewers in one day. That’s why I picked tomorrow—it’s your weekend. Please help me spread the word! The meeting starts at nine in the morning—let’s hit the trending list together!”

【You’ve already got forty mu of farmland, and you still care about that little mission reward?】

Jiang Ji grinned. “Come on, that’s all borrowed money, remember? And besides, the reward is the Intermediate Farming Skill! I want to see if there’s anything useful from modern farming techniques I can apply here.”

【Let’s gooo! I want to see how they react!】
【Same, I’m sure the rice will sell, but I’m curious if the villagers will be willing to try the new sweet potatoes and potatoes.】
【Fortune favors the bold—those who dare win!】

Jiang Ji laughed. “Exactly! Those who dare will have full bellies; those who don’t can stay hungry. It’s their choice. Just give it a few months—once they see others harvesting and earning silver, they’ll understand.”

After chatting a while longer with his viewers, Jiang Ji went back to bed.

When the light went out, he nudged Jiang Yan’s arm and whispered, “Hey, Jiang Yan, do you think they’ll be willing to plant sweet potatoes with me?”

Jiang Yan turned his head toward him, his silhouette faint in the dark. “Why? You worried?”

“Worried? Nah.” Jiang Ji lay on his back, one hand behind his head. “I’m not the one who’ll go hungry anyway.”

Jiang Yan’s brow arched slightly. “So… no confidence? Nervous?”

Jiang Ji shot him a sideways glance. “Do I look like the nervous type to you?”

Jiang Yan didn’t answer, but Jiang Ji heard a soft chuckle beside him. He almost thought he imagined it. “You just laughed, didn’t you?”

“Did I?”

“You did.”

“You must’ve misheard.”

Jiang Ji huffed. “Sure, sure. You’re just lucky it’s dark, so I can’t see that smirk. Covering your ears doesn’t hide the bell, you know.”

Jiang Yan: …

Jiang Ji said no more and soon drifted off to sleep.

Listening to his slow, steady breathing, Jiang Yan’s lips curved faintly upward.

He really could fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

But Jiang Yan’s mind stayed restless. His wounds were nearly healed, yet his memories still hadn’t returned—not even fragments.

Once he recovered, what should he do?

Should he go investigate Skull Mountain, where the bandits roamed?

Or…

His thoughts trailed off when a warm body inched closer. His arm was suddenly hugged, and a soft, fluffy head burrowed naturally against his shoulder, nestling into the crook of his neck.

Jiang Yan didn’t move. He was already used to it. Tilting his head slightly, he felt Jiang Ji’s soft hair brush against his cheek—cool and ticklish.

Sleep finally overtook him, and he closed his eyes.

…

The next morning, the weather was bright and clear.

After breakfast, Jiang Ji set up two large tables at the entrance of the main hall. Soon, villagers arrived one after another, bringing their own stools and gathering in the courtyard of Jiang Ji’s home.

The village head had already arrived and was maintaining order, guiding everyone to sit in neat rows.

“Village Head, why are we meeting at Jiang Ji’s house? Don’t we usually meet in the ancestral hall?”

“And you said there’s some kind of high-yield rice seed—was that true?”

Everyone was there because of what the village head had said, and now all eyes were on him, full of curiosity and expectation.

The village head chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough. No need to rush—some folks haven’t arrived yet.”

Just then, a faintly sweet and savory aroma wafted out from the kitchen, instantly catching everyone’s attention.

“What’s that smell? Jiang Ji, what are you cooking? Haven’t you eaten yet?”

“Yeah, what is that? It doesn’t smell like porridge or rice.”

Jiang Ji grinned. “Something good. You’ll get to try it later.”

“What is it? Can’t you tell us now?” The crowd’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued.

“Don’t be so impatient, Uncle. You’ll know in a bit.”

With both the village head and Jiang Ji being tight-lipped, everyone could only wait.

Inside the kitchen, Zhao Ru and Xiufang were busy with Jiang Xia and Tao’er. They had steamed two large pots of rice early that morning, along with sweet potatoes, potatoes, and corn. Now they were cutting everything into small pieces to share later.

The seeds were far too valuable to waste—letting everyone taste the food would be enough.

Outside, Jiang Yan brought out a stool and sat with Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei to the side, watching.

Since his injury, he had hardly left the courtyard except to use the latrine, so many villagers had never seen him in person.

Now, dressed in a simple blue robe, he stood tall and straight. His sharp nose, defined features, and fair skin made him look completely different from the other villagers.

Many people glanced his way; a few young women and newly married wives huddled together, whispering.

“So that’s the young master Jiang Ji rescued?”

“I heard Jiang Ji gave him the name Jiang Yan.”

“He’s so handsome.”

“Really does look like a nobleman—look how fair he is!”

“What, you like him now?”

“Well, he’d have to like me back first.”

Jiang Ji happened to walk by just then, and an older aunt tugged him aside. “Auntie, what’s wrong?”

She nodded subtly toward Jiang Yan. “That Jiang Yan—does he have a wife?”

Jiang Ji looked at Jiang Yan, then back at the group of women. “…”

“Well? Answer us, Jiang Ji!”

Jiang Ji sighed. “I really don’t know, Auntie. You all forgot—he lost his memory.”

“Oh, right, I almost forgot. But even so, he’s probably married, isn’t he?”

“Looks about that age—he must be.”

“A young master from a rich family? Even if he’s not married, I bet he’s got a concubine already. Best not to get your hopes up.”

As the women continued gossiping among themselves, Jiang Ji followed their gaze to Jiang Yan—refined and composed even in coarse homespun clothing. No wonder he was the center of attention.

He shook his head and walked away. Married or not, they’d have to wait until Jiang Yan’s memory returned to know for sure.

*

At that same time, Jin Hua’s family was out in the fields, plowing and weeding.

Her eldest son, Li Laoda, looked toward the distance where villagers were steadily heading to Jiang Ji’s house. Then he glanced at his mother, squatting down and pulling weeds. “Mom, everyone’s gathering over there. Are we really not going?”

“What’s there to go for?” Jin Hua snapped, tossing the weeds aside in anger. “You forgot your brother’s life or death is still uncertain!?”

At the mention of Li Laosan, the second son fell silent and looked over at his younger brother.

Li Laoda gestured with his chin for the second to speak.

Li Lao’er pretended not to notice and kept his head down, working the soil.

The eldest son’s wife, who had been eyeing the talk of high-yield rice enviously, couldn’t help saying, “Mother, the village head said these rice seeds can double the harvest. If we don’t go, we might miss our chance.”

Jin Hua shot up, furious. “He says it and you just believe it? What, am I starving you? Did you forget what that little brat Jiang Ji did to us? My backside still hurts!”

Those ten strokes had been ordered by the county magistrate, not by Jiang Ji—but Jin Hua refused to see reason.

The eldest daughter-in-law wanted to retort but was stopped by her husband. Instead, she motioned with her eyes to their fifteen-year-old son, Qiangzi, signaling him to go have a look.

Qiangzi was a clever boy. “I’ll go… to the latrine,” he said quickly, and then slipped away.

Once he was out of sight, he circled through the village and headed straight for Jiang Ji’s house, crouching behind the outer wall to eavesdrop.

By then, it was nearly time. Not only had every household’s head arrived, but many family members came along too, curious about the so-called high-yield rice.

The courtyard was packed, people shoulder to shoulder.

The village head looked up at the sky, then stepped forward. “Looks like everyone’s here. Check around—anyone missing?”

Someone replied, “I think no one came from Jiang Ming’s house.”

A woman called out, “Jiang Ming caught a cold—I’m here on his behalf.”

Another person added, “What about Jin Hua’s family? I don’t see them.”

“She can walk now, can’t she?”

“I heard her third son’s been sent off under escort to the northwest. No way she’d come to Jiang Ji’s place—she probably hates him to death.”

“She’s got no shame anyway. Raising a beast of a son—she ought to keep her head down.”

Outside the courtyard, Qiangzi heard it all and pursed his lips. His grandmother and uncle’s mess had dragged their whole family down in reputation.

After Li Laosan’s incident, Jin Hua had taken ten lashes, and Li Laosan had been exiled. The villagers despised their family and celebrated their downfall—but everyone knew Jin Hua and Jiang Ji’s families were now mortal enemies.

The village head knew all this well. “Anyone who didn’t come, we won’t wait for. Nobody’s being forced. Quiet down, everyone—let’s start.”

The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning toward the front.

The village head spoke clearly, “I called everyone here today for something important—something that concerns our bellies. When I came around last night, I mentioned a new high-yield rice seed. Some of you probably didn’t believe me, thought I was joking. Well, this new seed came from Jiang Ji. Let him explain it to you himself.”

“What? The new rice seeds were brought back by Jiang Ji?”

“Are you serious?”

“Where on earth did that kid even get new rice seeds?”

Amid the murmurs of shock and disbelief, Jiang Ji stepped forward and stood at the center of the courtyard.

He glanced around the crowd, cleared his throat, and raised his voice. “Uncles, aunts, I get the feeling you still don’t quite believe I actually have new rice seeds, do you?”

Someone shouted, “Then show us!”

“Yeah, let’s see them first.”

Jiang Ji smiled. “Alright. Not only will you see them—you’ll taste them too. Then you can judge for yourselves how they compare to the rice we eat now.”

He turned toward the kitchen and called out, “Mother! Aunt Xiufang! Bring out the rice!”

“Coming!” Zhao Ru replied.

A moment later, Zhao Ru and Xiufang emerged, each carrying a large basin of steaming white rice, which they placed on the central table.

Jiang Ji also set a small bag of rice grains and unhulled seeds on another table for everyone to inspect.

When everything was arranged, Jiang Ji addressed the crowd. “Here—this is the seed rice, and this is the polished rice and the cooked rice made from it. Now, I’d like each household head to come forward and taste it for yourselves. There isn’t much, so please—just one bite each. See how it tastes.”

Immediately, the front rows began surging forward.

“Don’t push! Line up!” Jiang Ji quickly called out.

The village head hurried over to help keep order, and soon the men had queued up properly.

The first two elders at the front could already see the basin clearly—the rice grains were crystal white and glossy, and the aroma alone was enough to make their stomachs rumble.

The rice had cooled to a perfect warmth—just right to eat.

“Alright, go ahead,” Jiang Ji said.

The first elder picked up a chopstickful, popped it into his mouth—soft, chewy, moist, and fragrant.

His eyes lit up. “Delicious,” he said, turning to the others behind him.

“Then hurry up and move! My turn!” the man behind barked.

Still chewing, the first elder stepped aside to inspect the table with the raw rice and seeds.

The polished grains were long and full, bright white with a sheen. He took a handful and sniffed—pure, rich rice fragrance.

“Hey,” said the next uncle, “how did Jiang Ji mill this rice? There’s not a single broken grain!”

“Maybe he sifted it,” another man said, stepping closer.

The first elder nodded. “Whatever he did, it smells amazing. Look at these seeds—plump and firm, not a single shriveled one.”

“You can’t plant the shriveled ones anyway.”

“Of course not. They must’ve been carefully picked.”

“The cooked rice really does taste better than ours—more fragrant and softer.”

One man split open a husked grain and inspected it. “Looks good. But how’s the sprouting rate? What’s the germination like? If it doesn’t sprout well, it’s useless.”

Soon, all the household heads had tasted the rice and crowded around the table to examine the grains and seeds.

Seeing the crowd growing thicker, Jiang Ji called out, “Uncles, if you’ve seen and tasted enough, please make room for the others!”

Someone asked, “Jiang Ji, how’s the sprouting rate? How sure are you it’ll germinate well?”

“Uncle, I’ll explain everything in a moment. Go take your seat first,” Jiang Ji replied.

When the men had all tasted, there was still a little rice left. Jiang Ji then invited the women to come try as well.

After about half an hour, the big basin of rice was completely gone, and everyone settled back into their seats.

Jiang Ji smiled. “Well then—how was it? Does it taste good?”

“It’s definitely better than what we grow now,” one man said. “But you said the yield doubles—is that true?”

Jiang Ji nodded. “It’s true. These seeds come from the south. If managed properly, each mu can yield at least four to five hundred jin.”

He wasn’t exaggerating—without modern fertilizers or pesticides, yields wouldn’t reach the levels of his previous life, but four to five hundred jin was realistic. Considering that local rice only yielded about two hundred per mu, this was indeed double.

He knew just how tempting that sounded to them.

The villagers were stunned.

“Four or five hundred jin?”

“Heavens above—really that much?”

“If that’s true, winter will be much easier this year!”

Jiang Ji let them murmur excitedly for a bit before someone raised a practical question: “How well do the seeds sprout? And how much do you need to plant one mu?”

Normally, with their current poor-quality varieties and old methods, the germination rate was low. Farmers needed twenty to thirty jin of seed just to cover one mu.

But Jiang Ji, with both the body’s original memory and the system’s farming knowledge, quickly compared the numbers in his mind.

In his past life, hybrid rice only required two to four jin per mu—sometimes up to seven, depending on the variety and method.

However, since there were no fertilizers here and it was his first time planting by hand, he added some leeway, just in case.

“If we end up with extra seedlings,” he said, “you can always sell them to others later.”

He continued, “For this variety, you only need six to ten jin per mu. And the growth period is ten to twenty days shorter than our current rice—it ripens faster, so you can harvest earlier.”

Everyone was dumbfounded.

“Only six to ten jin?”

“And it matures faster? You’re not fooling us, are you?”

“Half the seed, double the yield, and earlier harvests? Sounds too good to be true.”

Seeing the skepticism on their faces, Jiang Ji clapped his hands for attention.

“Listen, everyone. The reason you need less seed is because this variety has a higher germination rate and better quality. Germination rate means how many seeds actually sprout. The rice we grow now usually sprouts at about half—sixty percent if you’re lucky.

But this one—this one sprouts at least eighty percent, sometimes even ninety. Think about that difference for a moment.”

Everyone grew animated.

“Heavens! If eight or nine out of ten can sprout, that really would save a lot of seed!”

“If that’s true, our family’s using this rice for sure.”

Jiang Ji continued explaining the benefits of the hybrid rice. “And this variety is very resistant to pests and lodging. You all know how during harvest time our rice stalks tend to fall over—it makes harvesting hard and the straw isn’t much use either, right? Well, this kind doesn’t fall. As long as there’s no extreme weather, it stays standing straight until you harvest.”

He kept talking, and by the end, everyone was visibly excited.

Finally, the village head asked the practical question, “And this rice—do we plant it the same way as before? Do you even know how to grow it?”

“Yeah, is it the same method?”

“What if we plant it wrong and ruin the crop?”

“Everyone, calm down.” Jiang Ji raised his hands, gesturing for quiet. “I’ve already asked around and written everything down. The planting method is mostly the same, but I’ve also got improved ways that can boost the yield even more.”

He added, “One key thing—when sprouting seedlings, we can’t just flood the field like we used to. That lowers the germination rate. Anyway, I’ll show you when it’s time—you can all watch and learn.”

Hearing that he had it figured out reassured the villagers.

“Jiang Ji, how much is this seed per jin?”

Since he was the one introducing it, they all knew they’d be buying from him.

Jiang Ji smiled. “Good question, Uncle Daguì. The new seed costs forty copper coins per jin.”

“What! That expensive?”

“Why don’t you just rob us outright?”

Jiang Ji laughed. “Auntie, it cost me a lot to bring these back from the south. And think about it—how much more rice will you harvest from it? When you do the math, does it really sound expensive?”

The auntie went quiet.

“Alright,” Jiang Ji said, “whether you buy or not, go home and think it over. Now, there’s something else important. I also brought back some new foods from the south. Let’s have everyone try them.”

Zhao Ru and Xiufang came out carrying a basin of sweet potatoes, while Jiang Ji and Jiang Yan went to fetch the potatoes, and Tao’er and Xia’er brought the corn.

The three big basins were set down on the tables, drawing everyone’s eyes.

“What are those?”

“There are three kinds—it’s that smell from before!”

“Jiang Ji, what are these?”

“These,” Jiang Ji said, standing beside the table, picking up each in turn, “are all edible foods. This one’s called hongshu—sweet potato. This is a potato. And this is corn. All of them can be eaten. Like before, uncles, come up one by one and take a small taste.”

To show it was safe, Jiang Ji took a small bite of each right there in front of everyone.

That removed any hesitation. Soon another long line formed, and each person got a small sample—just a bite or two.

“Heavens, this red one—what did you call it? Sweet potato? It’s delicious!”

“This yellow one’s good too! Wife, daughter, come here, try this!”

“The pale yellow one doesn’t have much taste, but it’s still edible.”

The courtyard buzzed with chatter as people tasted the new foods. Some even shared their sample with family members.

The women and children liked the sweet potatoes best.

“Father, this one’s so good!”

“The yellow one’s tasty too!”

“Father, can we plant the red one?”

Soon, everyone had finished eating, licking their lips and smacking their mouths, clearly wanting more.

Just that one bite—it wasn’t enough at all!

They wanted more.

“Jiang Ji, you brought back seeds for these too, right?”

“Yeah, can we plant them?”

They weren’t fools. If Jiang Ji was letting them all try so much, then of course it meant he was planning to sell the seeds.

Jiang Ji smiled. “Yes, we can plant these as well. They all grow in dry fields—sweet potatoes and corn are especially drought-resistant. Sweet potatoes can even grow in wasteland. And all of them can be stored through the winter for a long time. I have connections to buy more seed—it just depends on whether anyone wants them.”

He deliberately paused there, teasing their curiosity.

“Grow on dry land? Of course we want them!”

“You can plant them on wasteland? Then definitely yes!”

“How much do you have?”

“Did you figure out how to plant them?”

“How are you selling them? How much a jin?”

Jiang Ji raised a hand for quiet. “I’ve written down all the planting methods—no need to rush. Sweet potato and potato seeds are ten copper coins per jin. Corn seeds are twenty per jin.”

“Why’s corn so expensive?” someone asked.

Jiang Ji picked an ear of corn and plucked a few kernels. “Corn is planted one grain at a time. A single jin has a lot of kernels, so don’t think it’s pricey.”

He then lifted a sweet potato and a potato. “These are tubers—you use the stems or chunks to grow new ones. And listen—once the sweet potato vines start growing, you can cut and replant the vines directly, and they’ll root again. The vines grow long, and each vine produces more sweet potatoes. You can even feed the vines to pigs and cattle, and the leaves are edible for people too. Basically, every part of the sweet potato is useful.”

“As for the potato, it’s a little trickier to grow than sweet potato, but it’s just as versatile. You can steam it, roast it, stir-fry it, or stew it. Once you start growing these and selling them in town, they’ll be completely unique—no one else will have them. Think how much money that could make.”

As Jiang Ji described all the advantages, outside by the gate, Qiangzi grabbed a small serving and ran off at full speed.

“Father! Mother! Great news—amazing news!”

Li Laoda’s wife, who had been watching for him anxiously, hurried over. “What great news?”

Qiangzi handed the food he was holding to his parents. He had managed to sneak a portion earlier while the crowd was distracted—he’d tasted a little of each item but had saved most of it.

“Father, Mother, Jiang Ji brought back high-yield rice seeds from the south—and these new foods too. They’re delicious! Try them!”

At his words, Li Laoda and his eldest son came closer, and the second brother’s family also walked over.

When Jin Hua heard that her grandson had gone to Jiang Ji’s house, she flared up instantly. “Qiangzi! You little brat! Didn’t you say you were going to the latrine? Where exactly did you go? Trying to make me die of anger, are you?”

Qiangzi shrank his neck, not daring to answer.

Li Laoda’s wife patted her son’s arm, signaling him not to be afraid, and looked curiously at what he held.

“What’s this? Really edible?”

Qiangzi nodded eagerly. “Everyone there tried it. This one’s called a sweet potato, that’s corn, and this one’s called a potato. Taste them!”

Li Laoda picked up a piece of sweet potato and took a small bite, then passed it to his wife to try.

The next moment, both of their faces lit up in surprise and delight. They tasted the corn and the potato too.

Li Laoda’s wife quickly asked, “What’s going on over there? How does he have things like this?”

So Qiangzi repeated everything he’d just seen. “…Anyway, the rice seeds are amazing—need less, grow faster, and yield a few hundred jin more grain. And Jiang Ji said we can grow these too—on dry land—and they keep through the winter. He’s still talking right now; it’s too much for me to remember. You’d better go hear it yourselves.”

“Go? No one’s going anywhere!” Jin Hua shoved Li Lao’er aside, scowling. “Get back to digging! When do you plan on finishing this field?”

The two brothers, who had feared their mother since childhood, were about to obey when the eldest daughter-in-law snapped.

“Enough!”

She had endured her domineering, unreasonable mother-in-law for years. Usually, she could swallow it—but now? Now there were high-yield rice seeds to buy!

And these new foods that could fill bellies!

Their children were growing fast, and so many mouths at home needed feeding. She wanted a full meal for once too!

But this foolish old woman—still clinging to that useless third son—was dragging them all down.

In her opinion, Li Laosan deserved what he got. He’d been lazy all his life, lazing around the fields and chasing after village girls after his wife died. The sight of him disgusted her.

She’d long wanted him gone—and now that he’d been exiled, she felt nothing but relief.

Good riddance.

But now, Jin Hua was still forbidding them from going to buy seeds because of that wastrel? She’d had enough.

What mattered more, pride or food?

The eldest daughter-in-law took a deep breath, grabbed her hoe, and started walking toward Jiang Ji’s house.

“If you won’t go, I will!”

Seeing her defy orders and even yell back, Jin Hua exploded. “You ungrateful wretch! If you dare go, don’t bother coming home!”

The daughter-in-law stopped for a moment. Jin Hua smirked, thinking she’d backed down—

—but then the woman turned to her husband, grabbed his wrist, and said, “You’re coming with me.”

Li Laoda actually wanted to go see, so he followed along.

Their two sons saw their parents leaving and, naturally, went with them.

Jin Hua froze for a second, then shouted, “Do you all even still see me as your mother!? Get back here!”

Li Laoda hesitated mid-step, but his wife tightened her grip on his arm. “Do you want those rice seeds or not? Don’t you want your sons to afford brides someday?”

He glanced at his sons, who both nodded quickly.

“Let’s go, or they’ll run out,” his wife urged, and he finally moved again.

Li Lao’er saw his brother’s family leaving, exchanged a look with his own wife, and thought—food and grain like that? No way he was staying behind to dig. Especially when his brother was going!

They gathered their children and followed too.

Li Laosan’s only son, just ten years old, sensed trouble brewing and hurried after his second uncle’s family.

“Fine! Fine!” Jin Hua shouted after them, hands on her hips, her voice shrill with fury. “You all think you’ve grown wings, huh? Go on, but don’t you dare come back!”

No one responded. She stood there, fuming, powerless.

Meanwhile, Li Laoda’s family reached Jiang Ji’s house but didn’t dare go in. They stood by the gate, listening.

At the front, Jiang Ji stood in the doorway of the main hall, took a sip of water, and continued speaking to the crowd.

“I’ve just told you the benefits of these three crops. Now let me give you the numbers. Right now, the most profitable one to plant is sweet potatoes. Once you buy the seed, you’ll not only harvest them in autumn—you can sell the vines as seedlings all the way through mid-May. That alone will earn back your cost quickly.”

“After the planting season, you’ll need to trim the vines regularly—you can feed those trimmings to pigs, cattle, chickens, ducks, or even stir-fry and eat them. Nothing goes to waste. You won’t lose out, no matter how you look at it.”

“I’m telling you this today because it’s the perfect time to start sprouting sweet potato and potato seedlings. So, if you want to plant, you’d better decide soon.”

Everyone began talking among themselves, debating whether to buy and what kinds of seeds to get.

“Oh right—one more thing,” Jiang Ji paused, suddenly remembering. “Soybean, cotton, and peanut seeds will be available next month too. They’re all high-yield, improved varieties. Everyone should plan your fields carefully—decide what to plant where.”

He added, “And I suggest everyone plant corn.”

An uncle sighed, “We don’t have that much land to plant all these.”

Someone else suddenly realized, “Wait, Jiang Ji, those big fields you bought the other day—are they for planting these crops?”

“Exactly.” Jiang Ji nodded.

Another person said, “The village head and Uncle Tu Gen’s family also bought land.”

“So they already knew! No wonder!”

The village head rubbed his nose, pretending not to hear, while Tu Gen just grinned.

Jiang Ji didn’t bother hiding it. “Yes, I asked them to help me, so I told them early. The gentry near the village still have plenty of fields for sale—they need silver urgently. If any of you have spare money, go buy land quickly.”

“Oh, right—almost forgot because of all this talking.” Jiang Ji looked at the crowd. “I told you to plant corn because corn grows over two meters tall. It can be intercropped with sweet potatoes, soybeans, potatoes, or peanuts.”

“Do you all know what intercropping means? For example, if you plant soybeans on the ridges, you can grow corn between the rows. Corn grows tall, so it won’t block sunlight for the soybeans. They don’t interfere with each other’s growth, which means one plot of land can produce both corn and soybeans. Isn’t that a good deal?”

This explanation amazed everyone—no one had ever thought of it.

“You can do that?”

“Really won’t affect the other crop?”

“If that’s true, that’s great! Same piece of land, but more harvest!”

The crowd asked many more questions, and Jiang Ji answered each one patiently.

Finally, he said, “It’s getting late—almost noon. We’ll stop here for today. Go home and think it over. Those who want seeds, come register at my house later. The quantity is limited, so it’s first come, first served. And those who want sweet potatoes and potatoes, decide soon—after two days I’ll start preparing the seedlings.”

The crowd gradually dispersed, though a few men and women lingered to ask more questions. Another quarter-hour passed before everyone finally left.

Aunt Xiufang helped Zhao Ru wash the wooden basins clean before taking Tao’er home.

Before leaving, she told Jiang Ji, “I just saw Li Laoda’s family standing by your gate, listening in.”

Jiang Ji glanced toward the entrance. Aunt Xiufang added, “They’ve left now—probably off asking around.”

Jiang Ji smiled. “I figured. Thanks, Auntie.”

“You going to sell seeds to their family?” she asked.

Jiang Ji shook his head. “No. We’re enemies now—no way I’d sell to them.”

Aunt Xiufang laughed. “Fair enough. We’ll head back then.”

Jiang Ji carried the wooden table back to her house, and on the way, he heard the familiar voice of System 2977.

[Congratulations, Host, on achieving 5 million viewers in a single day. Reward: Intermediate Farming Skill.]

Jiang Ji’s eyes lit up. “Well, look at that—it worked!”

“Thanks, brothers! Now let’s guess—how many people do you think will come register for seeds?”

[Judging from what we saw earlier, probably quite a few.]

[Not necessarily. Some cautious ones might wait and see first.]

[My guess—about half the village.]

While the chat scrolled with guesses, Jiang Ji returned home, where Zhao Ru was cooking lunch.

In the courtyard, corn cobs, potato peels, and sweet potato skins lay scattered from the earlier demonstration.

Jiang Yan stood tall with a broom, quietly sweeping the mess into a pile.

“I’ll do it,” Jiang Ji offered, walking over.

“No need. My wound’s healed,” Jiang Yan said, stepping aside to continue sweeping.

Seeing he wouldn’t yield, Jiang Ji didn’t insist. “Alright then—can you help me with something else?”

“Go on.”

Jiang Ji scratched his head. “You’ve got neat handwriting. Can you copy down the planting instructions for me?”

Jiang Yan looked at him and smiled. “Sure.”

“Great. I’ll go to town this afternoon and buy a few blank notebooks.”

Curious, Jiang Yan asked, “You’re selling seeds to the villagers—but where are your seeds?”

Jiang Ji’s home was small; one glance covered the whole place, and there was no sign of the sweet potatoes, potatoes, or corn from earlier. He hadn’t seen anyone carrying sacks either—it was as if they’d appeared out of thin air.

Jiang Ji hesitated for half a second, then smiled. “Once everyone finishes registering, they’ll arrive.”

Seeing he didn’t want to explain further, Jiang Yan didn’t press. Instead, he said, “That intercropping idea of yours—it’s really clever.”

“Right? It makes the best use of land. Whoever came up with that method must’ve been a genius.”

Jiang Ji genuinely admired it. With all the agricultural knowledge the system had given him, he was constantly amazed by the ancient farmers’ ingenuity.

Jiang Yan’s brow lifted slightly. “I thought you came up with it yourself.”

Jiang Ji blinked. “Why would you think that?”

Jiang Yan met his gaze, smiling faintly but saying nothing.

After a moment, Jiang Ji looked away, coughed lightly, and said, “I heard it from the southern merchant. He was selling these crops—of course he’d have to teach me how to plant them. Otherwise, who’d buy?”

“That makes sense,” Jiang Yan nodded. “Still, remembering all of it so clearly is impressive.”

Jiang Ji raised his eyebrows proudly. “Well, I do have a decent memory.”

Jiang Yan looked at his animated expression, the lively sparkle in his eyes, and his lips curved slightly—but he didn’t reply.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

The next morning, Jiang Ji and Zhao Ru split up to take care of their own tasks.

Jiang Ji went to find a local landlord to buy farmland, while Zhao Ru brought Aunt Xiufang to the clothing shop. Xiufang had finished a set of undergarments the night before, and today she needed Shopkeeper Sun to inspect her work.

Yesterday, Jiang Ji had already asked the village head about available land. There happened to be a large stretch of farmland near the neighboring village being sold off by a landlord who had lost money in a failed business venture and urgently needed silver. Jiang Ji asked the village head to accompany him to negotiate.

They easily found the seller, and the discussion went smoothly.

Normally, fertile land in this region sold for about five taels of silver per mu, but since the landlord was desperate for money, Jiang Ji managed to bargain the price down slightly—settling at four taels and five qian per mu.

They went to inspect the fields. Jiang Ji picked several good plots that were conveniently located for irrigation, totaling eleven mu and six fen, for a total of fifty-two taels and two qian of silver.

Afterward, they all went to the county office to register the transaction and have the deed transferred.

Holding the freshly issued land deed in his hand, Jiang Ji finally felt at ease.

After leaving the yamen, the landlord went off to take care of other business in town, and Jiang Ji returned to the village together with the village head.

On the way back, Jiang Ji thought about it—he would likely need the village head’s help again in the future—so he said, “Village Head, if your family has some spare money, you should buy a couple of mu of land too, or at least rent a few more.”

The village head had already been puzzled about this yesterday when he’d heard that Jiang Ji planned to buy so much farmland. He knew the family’s situation well. He figured the silver probably came from that young master whom Jiang Ji had saved, but to spend all of it on land still seemed strange.

Now, hearing Jiang Ji urge him to buy land as well, the village head asked, “You’ve bought so much land already—your family can’t possibly manage it all. Are you planning to lease it out?”

“No,” Jiang Ji replied, “we’ll farm it ourselves.”

The village head looked surprised. “You can’t possibly handle that much land on your own.”

“I’ll hire people to help,” Jiang Ji said calmly.

The village head paused, a thought forming in his mind. “You telling me to buy land too—does that mean something?”

Jiang Ji then briefly explained his plan. The village head hadn’t yet seen sweet potatoes or corn, but when he heard that Jiang Ji had access to a new type of high-yield rice seed that could double production, he became intrigued.

Seeing his interest, Jiang Ji pressed gently, “Village Head, what I said is true. I wouldn’t lie to you. It’s best to buy the land outright—and soon. In a few days, when the weather warms up, it’ll be time to sow the fields. If you just rent land, the rent will definitely go up next year. Owning it yourself means you won’t be at anyone’s mercy.”

The village head was a shrewd man. Land in one’s own hands was always valuable. If the harvest really did double as Jiang Ji claimed, both the price of land and rental rates would rise by next year.

But his family didn’t have much silver left—at most, they could afford another three mu.

Jiang Ji then reminded him, “Village Head, could you keep this between us for a few days? Four days will do.”

Four days would give Aunt Xiufang’s family enough time to gather money.

He worried that if the village head mentioned it to his brothers and word spread, people might rush to buy land, and Aunt Xiufang’s family wouldn’t have saved enough yet.

The village head nodded. “Alright.”

When they got back, the village head followed Jiang Ji home to take a look at the sweet potatoes and corn. There wasn’t time to steam them, so he bit into a raw sweet potato to test it—and found it edible. Convinced, he went straight home to fetch his silver and hurried off to buy land from the same landlord.

Meanwhile, Zhao Ru and Aunt Xiufang had arrived at the clothing shop in town.

Shopkeeper Sun examined the garment Xiufang had made and was quite pleased with the craftsmanship. She immediately paid her two taels of silver.

When Xiufang saw she had truly earned two taels, her smile was so wide her eyes nearly disappeared.

Just as they were about to leave, they ran into Madam Qian, accompanied by her old maid. The lady looked radiant and in a very good mood.

Seeing her, Zhao Ru instantly understood—Madam Qian must have been very satisfied indeed.

Madam Qian recognized Zhao Ru at once and took her aside, whispering, “Sister, you’re here to deliver more clothes to Shopkeeper Sun, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Is Madam here to choose more?” Zhao Ru asked.

A faint blush crept across Madam Qian’s cheeks. “I came to pick two more sets.”

Shopkeeper Sun smiled. “Perfect timing—Madam Jiang just brought in some new styles yesterday. Would you like to have a look? I promise you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“New styles? Alright,” Madam Qian said, following Shopkeeper Sun into the back room, while Zhao Ru and Xiufang took their leave and headed to the fabric shop.

As they walked, Xiufang tugged Zhao Ru’s sleeve and whispered, “That lady—she’s the one buying the undergarments, right?”

Zhao Ru nodded quietly, avoiding any mention of the concubine situation at Madam Qian’s household. “Yes, she bought two sets a few days ago. Seems she liked them a lot—she’s back for more.”

They selected fabric at the shop and rushed home. Xiufang was now so eager to work that she practically wished she could sew in her sleep. Except for eating, sleeping, and going to the latrine, she and her daughter Tao’er stayed glued to Zhao Ru’s room, sewing side by side with her.

As for Jiang Ji, news that he and the village head had gone to buy farmland spread quickly.

No one suspected anything unusual—they were just astonished that Jiang Ji had purchased over eleven mu of land in one go.

Everyone whispered in awe. Jiang Ji must really have saved a wealthy young master, and the reward must have been generous. Otherwise, how could his family suddenly have so much silver to buy that much land?

Jiang Yan also heard about the land purchase. He knew Jiang Ji planned to grow rice, sweet potatoes, and other new crops, and they hadn’t kept any of it from him.

While Jiang Ji was checking his wound, he said, “You’re healing well. It’s closing up nicely. We can remove the stitches in a few days.”

Jiang Yan felt relieved. Looking up, he asked, “I still have some banknotes—should I use them to buy more land?”

Jiang Ji, wrapping the bandage, glanced up with a grin. “Didn’t I tell everyone you only had a bit over a hundred taels left? You need to keep something for yourself, don’t you?”

“I could still use a hundred taels to buy land,” Jiang Yan said.

Jiang Ji paused and looked at him. “You really want to lend me a hundred taels to buy more? Aren’t you afraid I won’t pay you back?”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Yan said casually. “I doubt I’d miss a hundred taels.”

Jiang Ji chuckled. “What a big spender… You sound just like me. But what if you are a fallen young master and this is your last bit of money?”

That could very well have been the case—but Jiang Yan didn’t even blink. “Then I’ll just follow you and farm. We won’t starve.”

Jiang Ji looked at him with a bright, amused smile. “You trust me that much?”

“Yes.” Jiang Yan nodded seriously.

Jiang Ji paused for a beat, then, still smiling, said, “Alright then. If that’s the case, lend me the hundred taels. I’ll buy more land—no such thing as too much.”

And Jiang Yan truly handed him the money.

The very next day, Jiang Ji went out again and bought another twenty-two mu of farmland, which conveniently connected to the plots he’d bought before.

When the villagers found out, they were stunned.

Twenty-two mu—added to the previous eleven plus their family’s original few—made nearly forty mu in total. Overnight, Jiang Ji had become a small landlord.

His public explanation was simple: Jiang Yan had lent him all his money to buy land.

That left everyone speechless again—first, at how readily Jiang Yan had handed over everything without keeping a coin for himself; second, at how lucky Jiang Ji was to have saved such a generous man.

Of course, if it had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have dared to borrow so much money just to buy farmland—not knowing if they could ever repay it.

The village head and Xiufang’s family, however, felt reassured.

If Jiang Ji was willing to invest this heavily, it meant he was confident about the new rice and crops.

And indeed, Jiang Ji was. He had complete faith in sweet potatoes, corn, potatoes, and the high-yield hybrid rice seeds.

Holding the small stack of freshly sealed land deeds, he suddenly felt like a rich man.

“Come on!” he said cheerfully. “Let’s go see our new fields!”

He led his family out to the farmland. They all stood along the ridges, Jiang Yan included.

Jiang Ji pointed ahead. “See that stretch? From here, all the way to that irrigation ditch and up to the roadside—that whole area is our paddy field now.”

“And that whole stretch of dry land over there—that’s ours too!”

As Jiang Ji lifted his arm, he felt an almost heroic surge of pride, his heart swelling with ambition. He could already picture it: months later, the entire expanse rippling with golden crops, bursting with harvest.

The whole family stared in stunned disbelief at the vast stretch of fields before them.

“All of this… really belongs to us?” Jiang Nan asked, wide-eyed and dazed.

Jiang Ji nodded firmly. “That’s right.”

Jiang Bei’s jaw dropped. “Wow! That’s so much land—we can grow tons of food!”

Both Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia broke into smiles.

For people in the countryside, as long as there was land under their feet, there was nothing to fear.

Two days later, Aunt Xiufang’s family had also managed to save enough silver to buy four mu of paddy field and two mu of dry land. Jiang Ji personally took them to the same landlord, buying at the same discounted price.

When they held the freshly sealed land deeds in their hands, both Aunt Xiufang and Uncle Tu Gen were glowing with joy.

They could hardly believe it—just in a few short days, Xiufang and her daughter Tao’er had earned enough from sewing clothes with Zhao Ru to buy six mu of land.

“Xiao Ji, really, thank you,” Uncle Tu Gen said sincerely, patting Jiang Ji’s shoulder with genuine gratitude.

Jiang Ji smiled. “Uncle, no need to thank us. Our family’s made it this far thanks to you and Aunt Xiufang looking after us all these years.”

The couple exchanged a look, deeply moved.

They had only ever offered help within their means—who would have thought such kindness would come back to them like this?

…

As the weather grew warmer and a spring rain passed, wild grass began to flourish.

It was now time to start sprouting sweet potatoes, potatoes, and various summer vegetables and fruits. Crops like rice, corn, soybeans, peanuts, and cotton would have to wait a little longer.

Jiang Ji walked over to the village head’s home.

“Village Head,” he said with a grin, “it’s time to gather everyone.”

He was about to hold a meeting—to announce and sell the seeds.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

The next morning, after checking Jiang Yan’s wound and changing his dressing, Jiang Ji began working on the latrine project.

He wrapped a cloth around his mouth and nose, grabbed his tools, and got to work.

He had already explained to his family the night before what the wooden trough was for. Everyone was curious about this “flush toilet” he kept talking about, so they gathered around to watch.

The old latrine was nothing more than a square pit with thick planks laid across the top. When people squatted, their entire bodies were positioned right above the waste pit, so the stench was overwhelming.

Now, Jiang Ji planned to dig a short sloped trench in front of the pit and set the wooden trough into it. Once fixed in place, he would use thatched walls to separate it from the waste pit behind. Just like that, it would become a simple flush-style toilet.

He first removed the door and the front thatch wall of the old latrine and set them aside. Then, after measuring out the distance, he began digging the trench.

It only needed to be about a meter long and a little over a foot wide, not too deep. He finished it quickly.

Jiang Ji and Zhao Ru carried the wooden trough over and lowered it into place. The pit was a little too narrow, so Jiang Ji dug out a bit more on each side. After a few adjustments, it finally fit snugly—slightly higher than ground level, with wooden planks on both sides to stabilize it.

The slope wasn’t steep, but Zhao Ru was still worried. “Will the trough slide down after a while?”

Jiang Ji thought for a moment. “I’ll make some stakes to hold it steady.”

He chopped down a few saplings about as thick as his leg, whittled them into two-meter-long stakes, and hammered two in to block the trough. Then he placed two horizontal beams across the waste pit to brace the stakes and tied everything tightly with rope.

“That should do it, right?” he said, turning to the others. “It shouldn’t move anymore, should it?”

Everyone agreed that it looked good.

“Alright, then.”

Jiang Ji stomped down the dirt around the trough to pack it in, laid two prepared planks on top, and the trench was done.

Next came the grass wall partition.

“Should we just reuse the old wall from the back?” Zhao Ru suggested.

Jiang Ji wrinkled his nose. “No way—that thing’s too disgusting. Let’s make a new one.”

So Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia went off to weave the new wall. Jiang Yan, though still not fully recovered, helped them as best he could without exerting too much strength.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ji found several sturdy logs to make a frame. He extended the original structure by about two meters.

He didn’t know how to build a pointed roof, so he decided to make the frame higher and cover it with a flat top instead.

While he was digging and arranging the posts, Da Zhu—the old doctor’s grandson—passed by and came over curiously. “Jiang Ji, what are you doing?”

“Brother Da Zhu, I’m remodeling the latrine,” Jiang Ji said.

Da Zhu looked toward the existing outhouse. “But you already have one, don’t you?”

Then his gaze fell on the wooden trough. “What’s that?”

“That’s the flushing trough. I carved it myself,” Jiang Ji explained simply, outlining his plan.

As Da Zhu pictured it in his mind, he quickly realized how convenient this “flush toilet” would be and immediately grew interested.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Jiang Ji said, “Brother, if you’ve got some time, could you help me set up the frame?”

Da Zhu agreed readily. “Sure thing!”

He was curious to see how it would look once finished and whether it would really work as well as Jiang Ji claimed.

With Da Zhu’s help, the frame went up quickly, and Zhao Ru’s group had also finished weaving the grass walls.

Together, they tied the walls to wooden poles fastened to the frame. The back wall, the one closest to the waste pit, was packed thick to block the smell. The other three walls were left with an open strip—about a foot high near the top—for ventilation.

When the roof was set in place and secured with ropes, the simple latrine was complete.

Jiang Ji filled an old wooden bucket with water and set it in the corner, adding a gourd ladle beside it. Done!

Everyone gathered around the new latrine with excitement. Jiang Nan rushed in first to test it out.

“Can you squat down?” Jiang Ji called. “You can stand closer to the narrow part in front.”

“I can squat!” Jiang Nan answered proudly from inside.

“Remember to flush!” Jiang Ji reminded him.

“I didn’t actually go,” Jiang Nan said as he came out grinning. “Just wanted to try squatting.”

“Does it still smell?”

Jiang Nan shook his head happily. “Only a little bit! And I don’t feel like I’m gonna fall in anymore!”

Jiang Bei ran in next, tested it, and came out beaming. “Now we don’t have to worry about slipping into the pit!”

Before, when the twins went to the old latrine, they were still small, and squatting above the pit had always been scary—they feared falling in every time. Now that the floor was solid and the waste pit was behind the wall, they finally felt safe.

Jiang Ji laughed. “Good. That’s the point.”

Everyone took turns testing it, and all were satisfied.

Jiang Ji turned to Jiang Yan. “What do you think?”

Jiang Yan nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “Excellent.”

Jiang Ji raised his brows, pleased. “See? Now you don’t have to hold it in anymore. That’s bad for your health.”

Jiang Yan: …

He’d indeed been enduring the old latrine’s stench. With his injury, he didn’t like walking to the grove either, so he often waited until he absolutely couldn’t anymore before going.

He hadn’t realized Jiang Ji had noticed.

Jiang Yan glanced at him—this man looked carefree and casual, but he was surprisingly observant.

After trying it himself, Da Zhu came out and said, “Jiang Ji, this is great! I’m going to build one at home too.”

Seeing everyone’s satisfaction, Jiang Ji felt an odd surge of accomplishment and pride.

He had created this with his own hands—a real, tangible improvement. A quiet joy and fulfillment welled up inside him, something he had never felt in his past life.

By afternoon, word must have spread through Da Zhu. Many villagers came to see the new latrine for themselves. After each visit, they left impressed and cheerful.

Over the next two days, wave after wave of people came to look, and soon, many households in the village began remodeling their own latrines.

Jiang Ji was thrilled. His design had sparked real change—if it made even a small improvement to everyone’s living conditions, that was enough to make him happy.

He even gave some extra advice: if they could afford it, they should coat the trough with paint or tung oil, or use a stone trough instead. It would last longer and make flushing easier. The footboards could be replaced with stone slabs, too.

Before long, word spread beyond their village. People from the neighboring one came to see and started building their own versions.

One household after another followed suit, and soon, the idea was spreading far and wide.

While the villagers busied themselves upgrading their latrines, Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia finished another ten or so sets of undergarments.

Each one looked different. Some had lace—large lace, small lace—some had bows, and others were simple and plain. There were even three specially made lighter, breezier sets.

Jiang Ji stared, astonished. “You two made this many styles?”

“I came up with seven or eight designs, Xia’er thought of three, and together we added another three,” Zhao Ru said. “You’ve seen what the immortals use, right? What do you think?”

Jiang Ji gave a big thumbs-up. “Perfect. Mother, Xia’er, you both have real talent for design!”

He’d only given them a general direction and a few suggestions. For two women who had never seen modern lingerie before, to be able to innovate like this was remarkable.

“De… design?” Zhao Ru repeated, puzzled.

“Design means creating new patterns and styles,” Jiang Ji explained. “When people sew, they usually copy existing clothes. But designers—designers invent new looks and lead trends. That’s a rare kind of talent—one in a million.”

Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia both brightened, delighted by his praise.

They brought the finished pieces to the city and delivered them to Shopkeeper Sun. When she saw how each set had a unique design, she was thrilled.

“Madam, how did you come up with so many styles?” Sun exclaimed. “Honestly, I’ve hired other women to make these, but none of theirs look this good or this creative!”

“As long as you’re satisfied,” Zhao Ru replied with a smile. Then she asked, “Shopkeeper, are you still looking for more workers? I have a friend—she’s very skilled with the needle too. Could she take some of your orders?”

Shopkeeper Sun, in high spirits, agreed readily. “Sure. Have her make one set following your design. If it meets the standard, I’ll pay her the same rate as you. I haven’t paid any other seamstress this well.”

Zhao Ru nodded happily. “Of course. I’ll ask her to make a sample for you to see first.”

“Good.” Shopkeeper Sun leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Madam, just a heads-up—this business won’t stay exclusive for long. We need to make as much profit as we can now. In about ten days, I’ll be sending shipments to the prefecture and the provincial capital. Once people there catch on, others will start copying us, and our profits will shrink fast.”

Zhao Ru understood immediately. “We’ll need to come up with new styles constantly, so we don’t fall behind.”

“Exactly.” Shopkeeper Sun was pleased with her quick understanding. “So, Madam, for these next ten days, make as many as you can. Earn what you can while the market’s still fresh. After that, depending on sales, I’ll let you know how much we’ll need.”

“Alright, thank you, Shopkeeper.”

That day, they sold thirteen sets—four silk ones at three taels each, and the rest at two taels per set—earning a total of thirty taels of silver.

When they got home, Zhao Ru first told Jiang Ji that she wanted Aunt Xiufang to help make clothes too.

Aunt Xiufang had done a lot for their family—she was straightforward, generous, and not the type to leak others’ secrets or ruin her own source of income—so Jiang Ji nodded in agreement.

Thinking about the coming spring planting, Jiang Ji asked, “Mother, what if we use some of the money to buy more farmland?”

“Buying land is fine,” Zhao Ru said, “but can we manage it?”

Every farmer dreamed of having more land, but when she thought about it seriously, their household only had about two and a half laborers. Their current fields already matched their capacity.

Jiang Ji said, “We definitely can’t handle it all ourselves. But when it gets busy, I can hire help. Later, even if we don’t farm it ourselves, we can rent it out.”

Zhao Ru realized her son had already made up his mind and nodded. After all, land wasn’t going anywhere—it would only appreciate.

“Alright.”

Jiang Ji added, “If Aunt Xiufang’s family has some spare money, tell her to buy a bit too. Once we start selling the seeds, the families with savings will all want to buy land. If she waits, it might be too late. Also, tell her not to spread the word yet—let her buy first.”

“Got it. I’ll talk to her.”

So Zhao Ru called Xiufang over and first told her about the clothing business.

“…The shopkeeper said today she’s still looking for people to make them,” Zhao Ru said. “I asked if you could too, and she agreed—but you’ll have to make one set first to show her your needlework.”

When Xiufang saw the small garments Zhao Ru brought out, she was stunned for a long time. “Good heavens, who came up with this?”

Zhao Ru couldn’t exactly say they were modeled after what immortals wore—much less that Jiang Ji had designed them—so she skipped that part. “I just thought it was a good idea. Perfect for summer—comfortable and airy.”

“I think so too,” Xiufang said. “Whoever thought of this must have a clever head—it’s genius!”

Zhao Ru blinked. Well, immortals do have clever heads, she thought.

Once she heard it was profitable—two taels of silver per set—Xiufang agreed without hesitation.

“Thank you, Xiao Ru. I’ll work with you. Quick, show me how to make it!”

Who could turn down the chance to earn silver?

She didn’t even ask where Zhao Ru had gotten this business idea. The fact that Zhao Ru thought of her when there was money to be made already made her happy.

Zhao Ru took her hand. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”

Xiufang, still cheerful, said, “Go ahead.”

Zhao Ru lowered her voice. “For the next few days, don’t go to the fields. Use all your time to make clothes. Once we sell them, use the money to buy land.”

Xiufang froze. “Buy land? Why?”

Following Jiang Ji’s instructions, Zhao Ru explained, “Xiao Ji met a traveling merchant from the south. He can get us new varieties of southern rice seeds—the harvest from those can double. There are also other crops that can be stored and eaten through winter. They’ll be selling the seeds in a few days, and when that happens, anyone with money will rush to buy farmland. Xiao Ji’s going to the yamen tomorrow to buy some—we’re planning to get ten mu.”

Xiufang was stunned. Ten mu of land would cost fifty taels. Zhao Ru wasn’t the type to spend so much unless she was sure it was worth it.

After a pause, Xiufang asked, “What kind of new crops?”

“Hold on, I’ll show you.”

Zhao Ru fetched two things from Jiang Ji—a sweet potato and a corn cob—and handed them to Xiufang. “These. This one’s called a sweet potato, and this one’s corn. Steam them for fifteen minutes—they’re delicious and keep well through winter.”

She pressed the sweet potato and corn into Xiufang’s hands. “Try them tonight, but don’t tell anyone yet.”

Xiufang looked at the unfamiliar foods and nodded. “Alright, I’ll do as you say.”

That evening, Xiufang brought her eldest daughter, Tao’er, to Zhao Ru’s room to learn how to make the garments.

When she went home later, she told her husband everything and steamed the sweet potato and corn. Their family of six each took a bite—and were immediately conquered by the soft, sweet taste of the sweet potato and the crisp sweetness of the corn.

“So good!”

Her husband, Tu Gen, made a prompt decision.

“Starting tomorrow, you and Tao’er stop going to the fields. Focus on making clothes. I’ll handle the farm work and the cooking—you two just sew and make enough to buy land!”

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Jiang Ji quickly asked what had happened.

The three of them walked to a quiet corner, and Zhao Ru explained everything that had taken place.

Jiang Xia said cheerfully, “Mother, it was brother who told me to go find that Madam Qian!”

Zhao Ru looked at her son in surprise. “You told Xia’er that?”

“Mm.” Jiang Ji smiled. “I overheard them talking—sounded like her husband had taken a concubine and was neglecting her. She was anxious about it, so I told Xia’er to give it a try.”

“So that’s why.” Zhao Ru sighed. “No wonder she bought it without hesitation.”

Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia then went off to buy more cloth and silk. Jiang Ji asked his mother for a bit more silver and went to the bookstore to pick out books for Jiang Yan.

He wasn’t sure what Jiang Yan liked to read, so after browsing for a while, he bought a Record of Major Events from Past Dynasties and Travels in the Dasheng Kingdom, which described local customs across the land. Finally, he added The Dasheng Legal Code—he wanted to understand the laws of this dynasty so he’d know what was permissible and what wasn’t.
He also grabbed three elementary reading primers from this era.

After buying the books, Jiang Ji purchased four sets of brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. The village school in the next village would open soon, and he planned to send Jiang Nan, Jiang Bei, and Jiang Xia to study. One extra set would go to Jiang Yan.

With his errands done, Jiang Ji went to find Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia at the fabric store, and together they bought some vegetables to take home.

“Brother, what did you buy?” Jiang Xia asked curiously when she saw the big bundle on his back.

“Books and writing tools for you all.”

“Books?”

Jiang Ji nodded. “We didn’t have the money before, so I couldn’t send you to school. Now that we do, you, Jiang Nan, and Jiang Bei will all go.”

Jiang Xia’s eyes widened. “Me too?”

Jiang Ji turned to her. “Why not? You don’t want to?”

“It’s not that,” Jiang Xia waved her hands, “but I’m a girl—and already thirteen.”

“Thirteen? That’s still young,” Jiang Ji said casually—it was only about middle school age to him.

Jiang Xia: … In two years I’ll be of marriage age.

Zhao Ru smiled gently. “Xia’er, do you want to go?”

Jiang Xia hesitated. “I used to want to.”

“Then go,” Jiang Ji said. “You don’t need to learn poetry or composition—just learn to read and listen to the teacher’s stories. Later you’ll be able to read contracts and documents yourself, so no one can trick you.”

“But spring plowing is coming soon,” Jiang Xia said worriedly. “I should stay and help at home.”

“No need,” said Jiang Ji. “I plan to hire people to do the heavy work. You just focus on studying.”

Jiang Xia looked toward Zhao Ru, who nodded with a warm smile. “If you want to go, then go.”

After thinking for a moment, Jiang Xia clenched her teeth and nodded. “Alright.” Just for two years, she told herself.

When they got home, Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia went to prepare dinner while Jiang Ji took the books and writing tools to his room.

“Jiang Yan, come take a look. I didn’t know what kind of books you like, so I bought a couple at random. You can see if you like them.”

Jiang Yan examined each one, noticing the primers and extra writing sets. “These are for Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei?”

“Yeah, and this set is for you.”

Jiang Yan looked genuinely surprised. “You even bought some for me?”

“Of course. I thought you might get bored. The supplies are cheap ones, but they’ll do for now.”

Jiang Yan picked one up, studied it carefully, and said sincerely, “Thank you.”

Just then, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei ran in. When they saw all the books on the table, Jiang Bei’s eyes lit up. “Big brother! Mother said we’re going to school—is that true?”

“That’s right. Do you want to go?” Jiang Ji asked.

“Yes!” Jiang Bei said immediately.

“No!” said Jiang Nan.

The brothers stared at each other. Jiang Bei looked shocked. “Jiang Nan, you don’t want to go to school?”

Jiang Nan shook his head. “No way. School’s too tiring! Look at Da Zhu—he has to write big characters even after class. He never gets to play.”

Jiang Bei frowned. “But I want to go.”

“Then go by yourself. I’m not going,” Jiang Nan said stubbornly.

Jiang Ji flicked him on the head. “You’re going whether you want to or not.”

“Ah—?” Jiang Nan pouted. “Big brother, can’t I not go?”

“Nope. If you don’t, no more candy,” Jiang Ji said bluntly.

For the little glutton Jiang Nan, that was the ultimate threat.

Sure enough, as soon as he heard there’d be no sweets, he surrendered. “O-okay then… I’ll go.”

Jiang Yan, watching from the side, couldn’t help but smile. He picked up The Dasheng Legal Code and started reading.

“You’re starting with that one?” Jiang Ji asked in surprise.

“What about it?”

Jiang Ji leaned closer. “I actually bought that for myself. Didn’t expect you’d be interested too.”

Jiang Yan raised a brow. “Why did you want to read it?”

Jiang Ji answered naturally, “We live in this country, so we should understand its laws. Otherwise, what if we accidentally break one?”

Jiang Yan nodded. “That’s what I thought too.”

“Then you read it first. I’ll take it after you’re done.”

Jiang Ji said and headed out.

Jiang Yan watched him leave, then turned back to the table of books and supplies, a faint smile touching his lips.

After lunch, Zhao Ru brewed medicine for Jiang Ji and then went back to sewing with Jiang Xia.

That day’s sixteen taels from sales had given them both huge motivation. The undergarments cost less than one tael to make, so they’d cleared fifteen taels in profit—it was incredible.

They had never imagined silver could be earned so easily.

Though Jiang Ji had never paid much attention to women’s lingerie before, he often passed lingerie stores in his previous life, and the advertisements had left some impression.

“Mother, you can add more variations,” Jiang Ji suggested. “Like lace trims, lotus edges, or little bows. Make one line for everyday wear and another for… well, people like Madam Qian. Those can be a bit bolder.”

Zhao Ru was inspired by the lace idea, but asked in confusion, “What do you mean by bolder?”

In his previous life as a rich young master, Jiang Ji had seen plenty of the world, and with the internet’s influence, he knew roughly what that meant.

With help from the livestream viewers’ comments, he explained, “The everyday ones can be thicker, with padding. But Madam Qian’s type should be thinner, maybe no padding. The lower band doesn’t need two layers, and the straps can be narrower—light and sheer, but not fully see-through. Basically, the goal is… to look alluring.”

Zhao Ru: …

Jiang Xia: …

Both of them blushed crimson. Still, it was a business, and they needed ideas.

“Oh, I see. I’ll try,” Zhao Ru said after a pause.

Once he finished giving advice, Jiang Ji went out—time to carry out his own plan.

He had originally meant to chop a tree, but as soon as he stepped outside, he remembered that there was still a leftover log at home.

He searched around the yard and finally found a piece of timber about a meter long and a foot thick, tucked away in the firewood shed corner. It had been left there years ago by his father after chopping wood.

Jiang Ji was overjoyed—what a lucky find! Just when he thought he’d have to go searching high and low, the perfect piece of wood was right there all along.

He immediately dragged the log out and began sizing it up with an axe.

After a moment, he realized using an axe might split it unevenly, so he ran over to the village head’s house to borrow a saw. Then, using a piece of charcoal, he drew cutting lines on the log.

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei followed him like little shadows. Curious, Jiang Bei asked, “Big brother, what are you doing with that wood?”

“I’m making a wooden trough,” Jiang Ji said.

Jiang Nan tilted his head. “What for?”

“For the toilet.”

Both boys blinked in confusion. Why did going to the toilet need a wooden trough?

Jiang Ji grabbed a plank to use as a straightedge, drew the rest of the lines, and started sawing.

He wasn’t very skilled with the saw—his movements were jerky and uneven. Several times, the blade got stuck in the wood, and it took him a lot of effort to wrench it loose.

Just then, Jiang Yan came out on his way to the latrine. Seeing what Jiang Ji was doing, he walked over and asked, “What are you making?”

“I want to hollow this out into a trough, but I’m not very good with the saw.” Jiang Ji scratched his head. “This blade’s too thin—it keeps getting stuck.”

“Let me try,” Jiang Yan offered.

Jiang Ji looked at him skeptically. “You know how?”

“I don’t know,” Jiang Yan replied calmly. “I’ll try.”

Jiang Ji: …

“Alright, go ahead.”

He handed the saw over, not expecting much. If even I—a modern rich kid—can’t get it right, he thought, there’s no way a pampered noble from ancient times can.

But the next moment, he froze in disbelief.

Jiang Yan planted one foot on the log, gripped the saw firmly, and began cutting—smooth, clean, steady strokes, the blade gliding effortlessly back and forth with a sharp hiss.

Jiang Ji: ?! This made no sense!

“I thought you were a young master from a wealthy family. How do you even know how to saw wood?” he blurted out.

Jiang Yan looked equally puzzled. “I don’t know. It just feels… easy.”

Jiang Ji: …

Expressionless, he muttered, “Careful—don’t saw past that black line.”

Jiang Yan glanced at him, lips curving faintly, then stopped and walked toward the gate.

“Where are you going?” Jiang Ji called.

“To the latrine.”

Jiang Ji: …

Jiang Yan returned shortly after and picked up the saw again, continuing the work.

“Won’t that pull on your wound?” Jiang Ji asked worriedly. “If it tears open, we’ll be in trouble.”

“I’m not using my core muscles,” Jiang Yan replied.

Jiang Ji blinked. So he’s only using his arms? And still has that much strength?

He thought back to himself earlier—he’d been using both arms and core and still struggled.

Is this guy really a noble?

Still, Jiang Ji was happy to have the help.

Once Jiang Yan finished sawing out the four corners, he set the tool down. “The rest can’t be sawed through directly. You’ll need to shave it down with an axe first.”

“Alright, I’ll handle it. You should rest,” Jiang Ji said.

He took up the axe carefully, not daring to swing too hard for fear of splitting the whole thing in two, and began chipping away bit by bit.

Jiang Yan didn’t leave. He brought out a stool and sat nearby, watching quietly as Jiang Ji worked.

Between the chopping, sawing, and chiseling, they labored through the entire afternoon—and finally, with Jiang Yan’s help, Jiang Ji completed the wooden trough.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

The next day, Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia went to town to sell the clothes, and Jiang Ji went along. He planned to check the local prices for seeds, buy a book for Jiang Yan, and look for materials he could use to improve the latrine.

He really couldn’t stand that latrine anymore—but it wasn’t exactly proper for him to keep slipping off to the woods either.

Over the past two days, he had finished organizing the cultivation methods for most of the crops suited to this region. Through this process, he realized why ancient grain yields were so low: first, the seeds themselves were poor and had low germination rates; second, the planting techniques were unscientific; third, pest and disease control was lacking; and fourth, there simply wasn’t enough fertilizer.

Fertilizer was crucial. In this era without chemical fertilizers, all manure was an essential resource—the basic material for composting and enriching the fields.

As the saying went, “Don’t let good fertilizer flow into another’s fields.” Jiang Ji couldn’t let any potential fertilizer go to waste in the woods.

On the road, Zhao Ru was still nervously rehearsing how to negotiate the sale. She had never done anything like this before.

Jiang Ji reassured her, “It’s normal to be nervous, but you don’t need to be afraid. Think about it—we’re going to do business. You and the shopkeeper are equals, just like when you sell vegetables. Treat it that way and you’ll be fine. Or… should I go talk instead?”

Zhao Ru quickly shook her head. “No, no, this is women’s clothing. You’re a young unmarried man—it wouldn’t be proper. I’ll go myself.”

“Alright.”

Jiang Ji went over the talking points with her, and they rehearsed a few times, adjusting her phrasing and tone until it sounded more confident.

“Xiao Ji,” Zhao Ru asked, “how much should we sell each set for?”

Jiang Ji thought about it. “One tael of silver.”

Jiang Xia’s eyes widened. “That expensive? Will anyone buy it?”

“Let’s try,” Jiang Ji shrugged. “If no one bites, we can lower the price. Always leave room for haggling.”

When they reached the town, they split up.

“Mother, are you sure you don’t need me to go with you?”

“No need. You take care of your errands. If your sister and I can’t manage to sell them, then you can step in.”

“Alright.”

Zhao Ru handed him two taels of silver. Jiang Ji headed straight for the market to check the seed prices—he needed that information to set fair prices for the seeds he planned to sell later.

After walking around the market for a while, he recorded everything neatly in his notebook, then headed for the lumber, stone, and brick shops.

He wanted to build a simple flush-style toilet, but since there was no cement here, he considered making a trough from wood or stone instead. If he used wood, it would have to be coated with paint—otherwise, it would rot quickly.

He found a shop that sold paint and asked for the price, only to be stunned.

“What? Two taels of silver for such a small bottle?” Jiang Ji stared wide-eyed at the fist-sized jar. Was this daylight robbery?

“Heh, young man, you clearly don’t know the trade. That’s already the cheap kind. The one over there costs even more,” the shopkeeper replied with a grin.

“How much is that one?”

The shopkeeper raised a hand. “Five taels.”

Jiang Ji: “…”

He put the bottle back down and excused himself politely.

Paint was available in the system’s exchange store too—but it cost ten points.

With spring plowing just around the corner, Jiang Ji didn’t want to waste his points on things he could buy with silver. After all, points could easily be converted into money, but money could never buy points.

He wanted to save them for seeds or other items that this world didn’t have.

He checked two more shops—same prices. Paint here was practically worth its weight in gold.

So he went to the stone merchant. A stone trough wouldn’t need paint, at least.

But stone troughs were expensive too, and having a craftsman carve one to his specifications would take ages.

Feeling the few bits of silver in his sleeve, Jiang Ji thought for a moment, then walked off.

Everything was so expensive!

He hadn’t even started making money yet. Better to just chop down a tree and carve one himself for now. Once he was wealthier and living in a proper house, he could make a better one.

The once-spendthrift Young Master Jiang had now learned thrift.

When he went to buy a book, he happened to run into Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia at the east end of the main street.

“Mother, Xia’er, how did it go?”

Jiang Xia sighed. “We’ve already been to three clothing shops and three fabric stores. No one wanted to buy. They’re all afraid it won’t sell—didn’t even ask the price.”

She couldn’t understand why none of the shopkeepers were interested in such a good thing.

There were only five ready-made clothing shops in the whole town anyway; most people bought fabric to sew their own clothes. Even Zhao Ru herself had never set foot in a clothing shop before—only fabric stores.

Some fabric shops displayed sample garments, but selling cloth remained their main business.

Zhao Ru patted her daughter’s head gently. “It’s alright. There are two more shops left. We’ll keep trying.”

Jiang Ji added, “Right, don’t give up yet.”

He went with them to the fourth clothing shop, but just as he was about to step inside, Zhao Ru stopped him. “Xiao Ji, wait outside.”

After all, it was women’s undergarments—they couldn’t bring a man along.

“Alright.” Jiang Ji stayed outside to wait.

Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia entered. The shop was run by a woman, and even the attendants were all young women. Several female customers were browsing the racks.

Zhao Ru’s eyes brightened. The previous shops had all been run by men, and she’d felt awkward talking to them about such things.

“Please, have a look around,” one of the attendants greeted them with a warm smile. “We’ve just released some new designs—they’re quite lovely.”

Zhao Ru shook her head. “We’re here to speak with the shopkeeper about a business matter.”

The girl blinked, then led them to the counter. “Shopkeeper Sun, this madam would like to discuss a business deal with you.”

Shopkeeper Sun was a woman in her thirties, tallying accounts at the counter. Hearing that, she looked up, surprise flashing briefly across her face before she smiled politely. “Madam, what kind of business did you have in mind?”

Zhao Ru placed the bundle she carried on the counter, untied it, and took out a red undergarment set.

“Please, take a look.”

“This is…?” Shopkeeper Sun didn’t recognize it at first, but once Zhao Ru laid out the brassiere and panties properly, realization struck her.

Undergarments.

She looked up, astonished. “Madam, did you make these yourselves?”

“Yes,” Zhao Ru nodded. “Would you be willing to take them?”

Shopkeeper Sun examined the small garments closely. Even with her experience, a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. “How did you ever think of making something like this? It’s quite bold.”

“It just came to us,” Zhao Ru said vaguely. “So, will you buy them?”

Shopkeeper Sun hesitated. “Madam, I’ll be honest with you—please don’t take offense.”

“Go ahead.”

“They’re very nice, but… they’ll be hard to sell,” she explained. “Such intimate clothing isn’t something women buy in shops. We’ve even tried selling dudou before, but…”

She shook her head—failure.

Zhao Ru bit her lip, unwilling to give up. Since the shopkeeper was also a woman, she decided to take a chance. “Shopkeeper, I’m actually wearing one of the brassieres right now. How about I take off my coat and show you?”

Shopkeeper Sun, curious about how it looked when worn, agreed. “Alright, come with me.”

“Okay.” Zhao Ru turned to Jiang Xia. “Xia’er, wait here.”

Jiang Xia nodded, and Zhao Ru followed the shopkeeper into the back room.

Outside, Jiang Ji was looking at a small stall near the clothing shop—it sold hair ornaments. As he browsed, two women passed by talking quietly. One was dressed in elegant lake-green silk; the other was her plainly dressed matron.

“Madam, you’re too soft-hearted. That little vixen keeps taking advantage of you, bewitching the master till he’s lost his wits—he hardly remembers who you are.”

“What can I do? He only visits me once a month.”

“Ah, you stick too much to propriety, madam. This won’t do. The master’s here today, isn’t he? Say some sweet words—flatter him a little.”

“I’ve tried. He’s completely enchanted by that fox.”

Jiang Ji: …

Watching them enter the clothing shop, he leaned over and whispered a few words to Jiang Xia.

“Got it?”

Jiang Xia widened her eyes as she watched the two women who had just passed, then nodded firmly and turned back into the clothing shop. She walked straight over to the lady in the lake-green gown.

Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Madam, I have… something you might need—something that can help you keep your husband’s heart firmly in your hands.”

The woman looked at the young girl in surprise, a hint of irritation flashing across her face. “You little thing, what nonsense are you talking about at your age?”

Jiang Xia ignored her tone, keeping her gaze steady. “It’s right here at the counter. It’s clothing. Come take a look and you’ll see.”

“Clothing?” The lady blinked, puzzled—she had thought the girl was trying to sell something improper.

“Yes, clothing.” Jiang Xia gestured for her to follow. “Please, this way.”

The lady exchanged a glance with her maidservant. The maid said quietly, “No harm in taking a look.”

The two walked to the counter. Jiang Xia untied the bundle and took out one of the small garments.

“This is clothing?” Both women stared at it in confusion.

Jiang Xia simply held up one of the bras and gestured over her chest. “A brassiere.”

The two women were stunned. It only took a moment for them to imagine how it would look when worn. The lady blinked, her cheeks reddening. “Little girl… you made this?”

“My mother and I made it,” Jiang Xia said.

Just then, Zhao Ru and Shopkeeper Sun came out from the back room. Jiang Xia pointed to Zhao Ru. “That’s my mother.”

Shopkeeper Sun noticed the lady in green and exclaimed, “Madam Qian! You’re here to browse?”

Madam Qian nodded, then discreetly picked up one of the brassieres and asked in a low voice, “Shopkeeper, is this something your store sells?”

Shopkeeper Sun glanced at Zhao Ru and gave her a quick wink before replying, “Yes, we just received these.”

Zhao Ru said nothing. Earlier, Shopkeeper Sun had seen the effect when Zhao Ru tried one on. Though she’d said the shop wouldn’t stock them, she personally wanted to buy a set and had asked the price. Zhao Ru had quoted one tael per set.

Shopkeeper Sun asked Madam Qian, “Is Madam interested in purchasing?”

Madam Qian exchanged another look with her maid. The maid gave a small nod. After a moment’s hesitation, Madam Qian bit her lip and decided.

“I’ll take it.”

Zhao Ru’s heart leapt with joy. Then Madam Qian asked, “How much for one set?”

Zhao Ru looked to Shopkeeper Sun—who calmly held up three fingers. “Three taels.”

Zhao Ru’s eyelid twitched, but she said nothing. She only felt Jiang Xia clutching at her sleeve, so she reached back to pat her hand reassuringly.

“I’ll take two sets,” Madam Qian said without hesitation, signaling her maid to pay. “Do you have any that will fit me?”

Shopkeeper Sun smiled. “You can try them on. We have different sizes and colors. Madam may go to the back room and see which suits best.”

“Then I shall.”

They went inside to try on the garments and returned a short while later. Madam Qian left the shop satisfied, carrying her new purchases.

Once she was gone, Shopkeeper Sun invited Zhao Ru to the back room.

She already knew a bit about Madam Qian’s family situation, and seeing how decisively she had bought the garments sparked an idea in her mind.

“Madam,” said Shopkeeper Sun, “I’ll buy the remaining six sets. Two taels per set. How does that sound?”

Zhao Ru blinked in surprise. She had only asked one tael before. “Shopkeeper, you…”

Shopkeeper Sun seemed to know what she meant. She patted Zhao Ru’s hand and said warmly, “Of course, I have a condition.”

“Please, speak.”

“From now on, any undergarments you make must be supplied exclusively to me,” she said briskly. “If you come up with new styles, even better. Oh, and if you can make a batch with silk, I’ll pay three taels a set. What do you think?”

Zhao Ru hesitated, a little worried. “You’re giving me that much—won’t you barely make a profit?”

Shopkeeper Sun laughed. “You’re an honest woman, so I’ll be honest too. Three taels is the top price here in this county. But our company has branches in the prefectural and provincial capitals. They’ll sell even better there, for much higher prices.”

Zhao Ru understood but still cautioned her, “Once word spreads, others will copy the design soon.”

Shopkeeper Sun chuckled. “That’s fine. We’ll make as much as we can before that happens. And we can always keep creating new designs.”

Once the market opened, competition and innovation would naturally follow.

Seeing the shopkeeper already had a plan in mind, Zhao Ru relaxed. “Then we’ll bring them over as soon as we finish another batch?”

“Yes. Start with the silk ones first.”

Zhao Ru nodded quickly. “Alright.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Shopkeeper Sun, pleased.

After settling the payment, Zhao Ru left the shop with Jiang Xia, happily clutching sixteen taels of silver.

Seeing the smiles on their faces, Jiang Ji knew at once that they had sold everything.

“Mother, how much did you make?”

“We sold it all—sixteen taels in total! And they’ll keep buying whatever we make next!” Jiang Xia said excitedly.

Jiang Ji blinked in surprise. That was double the price he had suggested to his mother!

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

After breakfast, Zhao Ru took Jiang Xia to town to buy cloth. The two little troublemakers, Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei, clamored to go too, so she brought them along.

Before leaving, Zhao Ru didn’t forget to set the chicken soup to simmer on the stove and reminded Jiang Ji to keep an eye on the fire.

Once she was gone, Jiang Ji changed Jiang Yan’s dressing, watched him take his medicine and lie down to rest, then moved a small table to the stove. While watching over the soup, he claimed his rewards for the Basic Farming Skill and the Farm Tool Modification Skill.

The moment he accepted them, a flood of knowledge filled his mind—centuries of ancient agricultural experience from hardworking farmers, along with detailed understanding of tool-making and modification techniques.

“My goodness,” he murmured. “Worthy of being a system reward.”

He now clearly understood how to cultivate crops that didn’t yet exist in this era—sweet potatoes, potatoes, and corn. From seedling propagation to transplanting, fertilizing, and field management—everything was clear in his head.

The only thing he wasn’t certain about was this world’s exact climate.

Wait—hold on. Jiang Ji opened the system’s background interface and scrolled to the section about the world’s era and environment.

“I knew I saw it somewhere before.”

When the system first bound to him, it had loaded comprehensive information about this world—geography, climate, and all.

The Dasheng Empire had twenty-one provincial prefectures, each governing its own states and counties. Jiang Ji lived in Changping County of Yunzhou, located in the south-central region of Dasheng.

The area experienced four distinct seasons: hot, rainy summers with abundant sunlight, and dry winters. With warmth and rain coming together, the climate was quite favorable for crop growth.

The flood of data in his head was dizzying. Worried he might forget something later, Jiang Ji decided to write it all down one by one.

He didn’t know how to use a brush, and the vertical writing style of ancient notebooks looked inconvenient. So he exchanged for modern notebooks and a water-based pen, then began writing down detailed planting methods for various crops. That way, when he taught the villagers later, he could simply read straight from his notes.

He started with staple grains—most people here grew rice—so he first wrote out the methods for rice cultivation.

Next came the crops he planned to promote: sweet potatoes, potatoes, corn, and cotton.

During a short break, Jiang Ji asked curiously, “2977, why are the characters in this world the same as the ones from ancient times in my world?”

【This world is a minor branch of an alternate timeline parallel to your world’s ancient era. It shares the same origin, but its history developed much more slowly.】

“Oh, so you brought me here to develop agriculture?”

2977 said nothing.

“You’re feeling guilty, huh.”

【Beyond clearance. Cannot answer.】

“…”

Jiang Ji sighed and went back to writing. Time passed unknowingly until the light before him dimmed. When he looked up, he nearly jumped—the handsome face of Jiang Yan was right in front of him.

“You’re up?”

Jiang Yan didn’t answer the question. His gaze was fixed curiously on the pen in Jiang Ji’s hand. “What are you writing? Is that… a pen?”

“Yes, a pen.” The man walked lightly—no sound at all—so Jiang Ji exhaled slowly. “You gave me a scare.”

Jiang Yan sat beside him, eyes still fixed on the pen. “May I have a look?”

Jiang Ji hesitated a moment, then handed it over.

Jiang Yan examined it carefully. The shaft was made of some translucent material, the tip fine and firm—not bristles. He brushed it across his fingertip; the line it left was thin and neat.

“The tip is hard… how is this made? And where does the ink come from?” Jiang Yan asked, full of wonder.

Jiang Ji shook his head.

Jiang Yan then picked up the notebook. “Your notebook reads sideways? The paper’s smooth, the binding tight—no seams at all.”

Seeing his interest, Jiang Ji blinked, quickly made up a story, and said, “I bought it in town. They said it came from the southern region. I don’t know how it’s made either. I just thought the lines were smaller, and the pen was fine enough to fit more words, so I bought them—good value.”

“Oh.” Jiang Yan nodded and didn’t press further. Looking at the writing, he added, “Some of your characters… I can’t recognize.”

Glancing at the simplified script, Jiang Ji laughed awkwardly. “Ah, that. You know how it is—we were poor. My father only managed to send me to the village school for a few years, so I’ve forgotten a lot. If any of these are wrong, don’t laugh at me.”

“I won’t.” Jiang Yan looked at him seriously. “If you don’t mind, I can teach you.”

Jiang Ji paused, eyes curving with a smile. “Sure, I’d appreciate that.”

Jiang Yan studied the notes again, a little surprised. “You’re writing planting methods?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Ji said, deciding to mix truth with fiction. “The sweet potatoes and corn we ate this morning—I bought them from a southern merchant. They don’t exist around here yet. He told me how they’re grown, and I didn’t want to forget, so I wrote it all down.”

“That’s wise.” Jiang Yan nodded. “Memory isn’t always reliable. Better to record things—you can always look them up later.”

He sounded like a man who spoke from experience. Jiang Ji smiled. “Exactly—better a bad pen than a good memory.”

“Indeed.” Jiang Yan pointed to a line. “You meant to write ‘time’ here, didn’t you?”

“Right.”

Jiang Yan wanted to write something and held the pen like a calligraphy brush. Jiang Ji stopped him, fetched another pen and notebook from Zhao Ru’s room, and opened it to the first page. “Write here—horizontally.”

Since he was living in this era, Jiang Ji figured he might as well learn traditional script properly instead of explaining every time.

Jiang Yan held the black water pen like a brush and began writing carefully.

It looked awkward. Jiang Ji reached over, demonstrating. “Try holding it like this. The seller said this pen works best that way.”

Jiang Yan, humble and quick to learn, adjusted his grip. Though still a bit unnatural, his writing did improve.

The characters, however, looked less elegant than before.

Seeing the faint crease between his brows, Jiang Ji comforted him, “You’re not used to this pen yet. Totally normal. Your writing still looks way better than mine.”

The tension in Jiang Yan’s expression eased slightly.

Thinking he might be bored while recovering, Jiang Ji asked, “Would you like some writing tools? Maybe a book or two? I can bring some back from town.”

Jiang Yan’s eyes lit up. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you bring me a book?”

“Sure. What kind?”

“Anything. I don’t remember what I used to read. Whatever you pick is fine.”

“Alright.”

Jiang Yan corrected his “mistaken characters,” and Jiang Ji copied each word carefully in traditional form, one line per term.

Watching his quick strokes, Jiang Yan commented, “You seem very practiced with this pen.”

“Mm, it’s easy to get used to. You can practice with it too—it’s handier than a brush, I think.”

The two took turns teaching and learning, occasionally chatting about the planting notes. By the time they reviewed everything Jiang Ji had written, Jiang Yan already had a general grasp of the cultivation methods.

“Here you wrote that sweet potatoes and corn can be planted once the temperature rises around the time of the Rain Water solar term—that’s soon, isn’t it?” Jiang Yan asked, reading the notebook.

Jiang Ji nodded. “Yeah, very soon.”

Near noon, Zhao Ru and the others still hadn’t returned, so Jiang Ji decided to start cooking.

The small fire in the stove still simmered—the chicken soup Zhao Ru had left earlier filled the air with its rich aroma.

Jiang Ji set the pot aside, then, following the original owner’s memories, rinsed the rice, placed the small pot back on the stove, added wood to the fire, and began to cook.

He’d watched Jiang Xia and the others tend the stove for several days, and with the original host’s memories as reference, cooking rice was no longer a problem for him.

Just as the rice began to boil, Zhao Ru and the others returned—bringing back a fresh fish as well.

Once Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia came in, they put their things away and immediately took over the cooking.

Jiang Ji secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Cooking dishes still wasn’t his strength, though he did have a good palate. In his previous life, he’d often listened to the family’s chef and housekeeper talk about food; at least he could play the part of a “mouth-only” chef.

Since both he and Jiang Yan were still taking medicine and had to avoid strong flavors, Zhao Ru planned to steam the fish.

When Jiang Ji saw her preparing to throw the fish directly into the steamer without any seasoning, he remembered that her fish dishes always carried a strong muddy odor. He quickly exchanged for a piece of fresh ginger, a bottle of rice wine, and a bottle of soy-based fish sauce.

“Mother,” he said, “marinate it with ginger and wine first. Steam it only after the water boils. Once it’s done, pour out all the steaming liquid—it’s what makes the fish smell. Then sprinkle chopped scallions and ginger shreds on top, pour over this sauce, and finish with hot oil.”

Zhao Ru paused, then nodded. “Alright.”

After finishing the rest of the dishes, she followed his directions and steamed the fish.

When the family sat down to eat, everyone immediately noticed something different.

“Mother, the fish doesn’t smell fishy today!” Jiang Nan exclaimed, astonished.

During summer, Jiang Ji often took them to catch fish in the creek—a rare chance for them to have meat—but the cooked fish always tasted muddy.

Jiang Bei nodded. “It’s really good.”

Even Jiang Yan praised, “Very fresh.”

Zhao Ru herself was surprised. “I did it just as Xiao Ji said.”

Jiang Ji raised his brows with a grin. “You have to marinate the fish first to remove the odor. And the steaming liquid—that’s where the smell comes from. We never poured it out before, so it didn’t taste as good.”

“I see,” Zhao Ru said, nodding. “I’ll remember that.”

Jiang Yan glanced at Jiang Ji, puzzled. If he knew that all along, why hadn’t he told Zhao Ru sooner? Still, in his current state of amnesia, he couldn’t judge what was normal and what wasn’t, so he didn’t ask.

After lunch and cleaning up, Zhao Ru called Jiang Ji into her room. She took out the undergarments she had made the night before—the prototype meant for sale—and asked, “Xiao Ji, look at this. Is it right? I’m afraid I did it wrong.”

She’d made the set using leftover coarse cloth. Jiang Ji couldn’t tell if it looked right or not, so he checked the comments in his livestream chat and summarized what the female viewers suggested.

“The bottoms look fine,” he said. “But for daily wear, the hem of the top should have another layer—thicker, for support. The shoulder straps can be made of string, easier to adjust. Mainly, you and Jiang Xia should try them on, see what feels comfortable and looks good. That’s what matters most.”

Zhao Ru nodded thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll adjust it.”

Jiang Ji went out while Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia stayed in the room, working together to refine the design. By evening, they had finished their first successful set.

Zhao Ru was delighted. She even tried on the brassiere herself.

Jiang Xia hadn’t developed yet, but Zhao Ru had already taught her some things in private. Watching her mother’s figure look more upright and shapely, she couldn’t help blushing.

“Mother, it looks really nice.”

Zhao Ru blushed as well, both surprised and pleased. “It does, doesn’t it? And it’s not as suffocating as the chest binding—it’s much more comfortable.”

In summer, when clothes were thin, women often bound their chests to avoid embarrassment. It was not only hot but also stifling.

“Mother, we should make more and sell them to the clothing shop! You can wear one yourself—people will definitely buy them!”

“Alright. I’ll make a slightly larger size to take and sell.”

Two days later, they successfully completed eight full sets.

The next morning, Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia set out for town to sell the clothes, and Jiang Ji went with them. He planned to check local seed prices, buy a book for Jiang Yan, and look for suitable materials to help him improve the household latrine.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Note to Readers

Hi everyone! I’m posting this note because a few readers have been upset or confused about some of the links not working and the TOCs not being updated. We’ve been pre-scheduling chapters so that a new one can be released every day. Because of this, some next chapter button links might not work yet. They’re set up for upcoming chapters and will become active once those chapters are released at their scheduled time.

Since we handle translations alongside our regular jobs/schools, it sometimes takes a bit longer to update the main page or add next chapter links only when the chapter is actually released. Scheduling chapters in advance helps us save time and keep daily releases going smoothly.

If you’d prefer that we only update the TOC and links after each chapter is fully released, please let us know. That method would be more organized but would slow down new releases.

Thanks for understanding, and thank you for continuing to support us 😘

…

Morning light gently filtered in, and Jiang Ji’s well-trained body clock woke him right on time.

He opened his eyes—and the first thing he saw was a sharply defined chin, smooth lines, a prominent Adam’s apple… a little too alluring.

A man.

Wait—why was there a man in his bed?!

Who—

Jiang Ji jolted fully awake and looked up, recognizing the face. It was Jiang Yan.

Right. He was in ancient times now.

His shoulders slumped. He turned over and lay flat on his back, dazed for a long moment.

He’d just been dreaming—dreaming of hanging out freely with his friends and brothers. Now he woke up staring at a thatched roof. The contrast was… jarring.

Letting out a long sigh, Jiang Ji rubbed his face and opened his system livestream.

Manually starting it every morning was inconvenient. If he ever forgot, it’d cost him points—and viewership directly affected his score. Better to start early and earn early.

He adjusted the settings: it would now start automatically when he opened his eyes, and end one minute after he closed them. He could even pause it himself now. Much less awkward.

After finishing the setup, he sat up and began dressing.

“You’re getting up already?”

The voice came from behind him—Jiang Yan’s. Jiang Ji turned to see him half-awake, eyes hazy. He lowered his voice. “Yeah. It’s still early. You can sleep a bit more.”

Jiang Yan did plan to go back to sleep. He’d fallen asleep late last night, and Jiang Ji’s sudden awakening had startled him awake too.

After a pause, Jiang Yan asked, “Did you have a nightmare just now?”

“Not a nightmare—a beautiful dream,” Jiang Ji sighed. “Waking up was the nightmare.”

Jiang Yan looked puzzled. How could someone wake up from a good dream and sigh about it?

But since Jiang Ji didn’t explain, he let it go.

Jiang Ji got dressed, got off the bed, and went to check on Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei. As expected, the two little monkeys were sprawled sideways again. He straightened them out, pulled up their blankets, and quietly shut the door behind him.

In the kitchen, Zhao Ru was already up preparing breakfast.

“You’re up,” she said. “Wait till the water’s hot before washing your face.” She had rinsed the rice and set a small pot of porridge on the stove, with another big pot heating water beside it.

“Alright, I’ll fetch some water first.” Jiang Ji picked up the carrying pole and two wooden buckets and headed to the village well.

It was just dawn outside, the village still quiet except for a few crowing roosters and barking dogs. From some chimneys, faint wisps of smoke had begun to rise.

The air was chilly. Jiang Ji steadied one bucket’s rope with one hand while tucking the other into his sleeve for warmth.

If it were in his past life, he would never have believed he’d wake this early on purpose. Back then, he wouldn’t even think of sleeping before 1 or 2 a.m.—sometimes pulling all-nighters was just normal in college.

But now, at sunrise, he felt completely alert and refreshed—not sleepy at all.

There was only one well in the whole village, located near the center. Over eighty households depended on it for their daily water. Since most people went to the fields later in the morning, they usually fetched water either early or around noon.

That meant there was always a line.

As Jiang Ji walked toward the well, he greeted a few early risers also carrying buckets. They exchanged brief morning chatter as they queued up.

When he arrived, four people were already in line. He joined them with his buckets.

Seeing him, someone called out, “Hey, Jiang Ji, heard that man you rescued finally woke up?”

Jiang Ji nodded. “Yeah, he woke up yesterday.”

The village head happened to be there fetching water too. “Where’s he from?” he asked. “And how’d he get injured?”

In this era, any stranger arriving in a village—especially one with knife wounds—was bound to draw attention. The headman had to ask; no one wanted trouble brought to their doorstep.

Everyone had been curious these past few days, whispering all sorts of guesses. Jiang Ji knew that well. After a moment of thought, he replied, “He lost his memory. Doesn’t remember his name or where he’s from.”

“He lost his memory?”
“For real?”

Everyone turned to Jiang Ji in disbelief.

Jiang Ji nodded seriously. “Really. So he doesn’t even know how he got injured. I think he must’ve run into bandits. He looks like a young master from some wealthy family in town—someone must’ve seen him as an easy target and tried to rob him.”

With that, Jiang Ji provided an explanation for Jiang Yan’s injuries, steering everyone’s thoughts in that direction.

“Yeah, makes sense. Bandit attacks aren’t rare these days.”

“I heard just before New Year, a man from town got robbed on his way to his wife’s family. It was only in the next town over—they took all his money, nearly killed him too.”

“Seriously? Where’d that happen?”

“They say it was near Daling Mountain.”

“Oh no, that’s close to Skull Mountain! That’s where the bandits hide out. Who’d dare pass through there?”

“People get robbed there all the time. The officials can’t clear out that den—the bandits just come back after every raid. Sigh.”

“Exactly. It’s terrible.”

The group chatted animatedly. Jiang Ji listened, then asked, “Uncle Dafu, that man who got robbed on his way to his wife’s family—how old was he?”

Someone caught on. “Wait, could that be the guy you saved?”

Uncle Dafu shook his head. “No, no. That fella survived and reported it to the county. I heard he’s in his thirties. How old’s the one you rescued?”

In his thirties—and he went to report it? Then definitely not Jiang Yan. Jiang Ji felt relieved. “He’s probably in his twenties. Definitely not older than twenty-seven.”

“Then it’s not the same one.”

Someone else chimed in, “Hey, if you say he was robbed, how come I heard he gave your family silver? And didn’t he have a jade pendant too?”

Jiang Ji blinked, making up a story smoothly. “The robbers took all his silver. My mom found two silver notes sewn into his sock when she washed his clothes—small ones, total about sixty taels. Probably his family hid them there in case he was robbed. The jade pendant fell out from a hidden pocket in his torn clothing. I think when he noticed the bandits coming, he stuffed it in there to protect it.”

“I see.”

“Lucky man, to survive that.”

Jiang Ji nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”

The village head then asked, “Jiang Ji, did he have any special marks or features? Maybe we should report it to the authorities. They might help him find his family.”

“I’ll ask him later,” Jiang Ji replied. “He really can’t remember anything, so we’ve got no clues to offer.”

“If even he doesn’t know, that’ll be hard to trace.”

“His family must be worried sick.”

Seeing everyone nod along, Jiang Ji relaxed inside. No one suspected he was being hunted—everyone had bought the robbery story.

Since gossip was inevitable, the best way to control it was to create a version himself.

By tomorrow, he was sure the whole village would be saying the stranger Jiang Ji rescued had been attacked by bandits and lost his memory.

After fetching water, Jiang Ji went home and told Zhao Ru everything that had happened by the well so they could keep their story consistent.

He was just about to go for a second trip when 2977’s electronic voice chimed in.

[Total viewers have reached one million. Second batch of vegetables, fruits, and daily goods unlocked. Host awarded: Basic Farm Tool Modification Skill. Tipping item unlocked: Seeds. Host may now select crop seeds as viewer rewards.]

Huh?

Jiang Ji immediately stopped in his tracks and went back into the kitchen.

Since the second batch of goods was available, why not let his family try something new?

He exchanged for six sweet potatoes and six ears of corn. “Mom, we’re having something different for breakfast today.”

Zhao Ru looked at the strange items on the table, puzzled. “What are these?”

“This one’s called hongshu (sweet potato), and this one’s yumi (corn). They’re both edible.”

Zhao Ru’s eyes widened in amazement. “You can eat them?”

“Yep. The immortals brought them from another land,” Jiang Ji said, invoking the “immortal” explanation—which always worked.

Zhao Ru brightened immediately. “How do you cook them?”

“The sweet potatoes just need washing to remove dirt. The corn—you peel off the husk and silk, then steam both till they’re soft.”

“How long does that take?”

“Uh, maybe about two quarters of an hour?” Jiang Ji guessed. He’d never actually cooked them himself. “You can test if they’re done by poking the sweet potato with chopsticks. If it slides in easily, it’s ready.”

“Got it.”

Zhao Ru deftly started peeling husks while Jiang Ji headed back out to fetch more water.

By the time he returned with the water barrels filled, the others were waking up. Jiang Yan also stepped out of his room, wearing a clean blue robe Jiang Ji had lent him. The plain cloth looked refined on him, his tall figure straight and elegant—like a scholar.

“You’re up already? Careful not to strain your wound.”

Jiang Yan nodded. “Where’s the latrine?”

“You’re actually going?”

“Please, show me the way.”

“I’ll take you.” Jiang Ji walked beside him. “Need me to help you?”

“No need.” Jiang Yan pressed a hand to his abdomen to protect the wound, moving slowly.

Jiang Ji glanced at him—his expression gave nothing away. “Does it still hurt?”

“Much better now.”

Jiang Ji led him out of the courtyard and around to the outhouse on the right. “Careful. So—number one or number two?”

Jiang Yan paused slightly. “Number two.”

“Number two and you didn’t bring paper? Hold on, I’ll get some.”

Jiang Ji ran back inside, opened a drawer in the main room, and grabbed a handful of paper before returning to hand it over. “Here. I’ll wait outside.”

After a while, Jiang Yan came out, frowning slightly.

Even from a distance, Jiang Ji could see the deep furrow between Jiang Yan’s brows—tight enough to crush a fly. He’d taken knife wounds without so much as flinching, yet now his face was all but twisted up.

Jiang Ji nearly burst out laughing. When Jiang Yan came closer, he asked, “Need a chamber pot?”

“No.” Jiang Yan’s tone was clipped.

“Alright then.” Jiang Ji remembered what he’d heard that morning. “Oh right—about that bandit hideout. It’s called Skull Mountain.”

He told Jiang Yan everything he’d learned and went over the cover story with him so they were consistent.

Jiang Yan nodded, then asked, “Has the government not tried to wipe out those bandits?”

“I heard the local officials can’t do anything about them. The county office is useless—they just hide whenever soldiers show up, then come right back once they’re gone. Unless the imperial army gets involved, no one can get rid of them for good.”

“You think I was injured by them?”

“Not necessarily.”

They chatted a bit longer, then went home. After washing their hands, Jiang Yan took out his toothbrush and cloth towel to wash up as well.

Jiang Ji fetched him water. “I could’ve brought some to your room, you know.”

“No need. I can move around now.”

Jiang Ji let him be.

At breakfast, Jiang Yan didn’t return to his room but joined everyone instead. “I owe you and your family much, Auntie,” he said politely to Zhao Ru. “I can move about now, so I’d like to eat with you all.”

“No need for formalities. Feeling better?” Zhao Ru asked with a smile.

“Much better. Thank you, Auntie.”

“The wound will heal in time. Don’t rush it,” she said kindly.

“Yes.”

Breakfast began. Zhao Ru brought out the steamed sweet potatoes and corn, while Jiang Xia ladled out bowls of wild-greens and lean-meat porridge.

“Jiang Yan, take the taller stool,” Jiang Ji said, pulling over the sturdiest one. “Careful now.”

“Alright.” Jiang Yan sat down.

The family gathered around the table. Everyone eyed the unfamiliar sweet potatoes and corn curiously—the faintly sweet aroma was something they’d never smelled before.

“Big Brother, what’s this? It smells kind of sweet,” Jiang Nan asked. He knew it had to be something magical his brother “summoned,” but he’d never seen it before.

Jiang Bei and Jiang Xia also turned toward Jiang Ji, eager for an answer.

“The red one’s called hongshu—sweet potato. The yellow one’s yumi—corn,” Jiang Ji explained. He broke one in half to show them how to eat it. “You can eat the skin too, but it doesn’t taste great. Just peel it like this and eat the inside. As for the corn, you just bite the kernels off—don’t chew the cob. Try it, see what you think.”

The sweet potatoes and corn had been cooling for a bit—perfect to eat now. Everyone picked one and began to taste.

Jiang Nan was the quickest; he’d grabbed a cob of corn, took one bite—and his eyes lit up. “It’s sweet!”

Jiang Bei had chosen a sweet potato. He peeled it and took a bite—soft, fragrant, and sticky-sweet. It melted the moment it touched his tongue.

“This one’s sweet too—so good!” He turned to share with his brother. “Jiang Nan, try this one—it’s amazing!”

“This one’s better.” Jiang Nan held out his corn to Jiang Bei’s mouth. “Taste it.”

Jiang Bei swallowed his bite of sweet potato and bit into the corn. “That’s good too, but not as good as the sweet potato. Here—take mine.”

Jiang Nan bit into the sweet potato Jiang Bei offered, and his eyes went wide again. “Why’s this so delicious?!”

Everyone else laughed at the two little boys.

Zhao Ru tried one herself. Sweet, soft, and comforting—she loved it instantly. “Xiao Ji, can we plant these?”

“We can,” Jiang Ji nodded. “I just wanted you to try them first. There’s another one called the tudou—potato. These three crops fill you up easily, store well through winter, and are simple to grow. Potatoes can even be planted in cold weather. I plan to have the whole village grow them.”

Zhao Ru’s eyes brightened. “They can be stored for winter? That’s wonderful.”

Three new crops—edible, storable, reliable. That meant people could finally eat through the cold months without starving.

As they ate, the family chattered about the flavor and how they might plant them. Jiang Yan stayed quiet, just observing.

Something puzzled him: Jiang Nan, Jiang Bei, and even Zhao Ru clearly had never seen these foods before—so why wasn’t anyone asking Jiang Ji where they came from?

Was he the only one curious?

Or… had he forgotten something because of his memory loss?

That thought unsettled him.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

For dinner, Zhao Ru stewed half a chicken with codonopsis and red dates. She had specifically gone to the village doctor’s house to ask about the right ingredients—to help Jiang Yan replenish his blood and energy.

After bringing the soup to a boil, she let it simmer over a low flame for an hour. The rich aroma of chicken broth filled the kitchen.

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei squatted near the stove, sniffing every few seconds.

It smelled heavenly.

Zhao Ru also made wild-onion omelets and stir-fried cabbage greens.

She ladled most of the chicken, red dates, and codonopsis into a large bowl and brought it to Jiang Yan. “Eat it all. You can eat the red dates and codonopsis too—they’ll help you recover your strength.”

Jiang Yan looked at the enormous bowl. “Auntie, this is too much.”

“It’s not too much. You need to build your strength. Eat it all—and drink the soup too. Xiao Ji, make sure he finishes it.”

“Got it,” Jiang Ji said brightly.

Once Zhao Ru left, Jiang Ji placed rice and vegetables in front of him. “Come on, eat up—get your strength back.”

Jiang Yan looked across the table and noticed that Jiang Ji’s bowl had only an omelet and some cabbage—no chicken or soup. After a pause, he asked, “Did your mother give all the chicken to me?”

“Most of it,” Jiang Ji admitted. “You’re the one who’s hurt, after all.”

Jiang Yan pushed the big bowl of chicken and broth toward him. “You eat too. I can’t finish all this.”

“No thanks. There’s codonopsis in there—I don’t like it. You handle it,” Jiang Ji said with a grin. “It’s my mom’s good will. You’d better finish every bit.”

Jiang Yan picked up a piece of the yellow root-like herb, examined it briefly, then ate it.

“How’s it taste?” Jiang Ji asked.

Jiang Yan chewed thoughtfully. “A little sweet—not bad.”

Jiang Ji gave him a thumbs-up. He himself didn’t even want to smell anything medicinal these days.

Jiang Yan then said, “Why don’t you take half the meat to give Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei, in exchange for that omelet?”

Jiang Ji shook his head. “There are wild onions in the omelet. You shouldn’t eat that—it’ll slow your wound healing. Besides, you already had eggs this morning and at lunch. Too many will be hard to digest.”

Jiang Yan: “…”

Seeing that he was about to argue, Jiang Ji quickly cut him off. “Don’t overthink it. You’re a grown man—you can handle the whole bowl. Eat up.”

Jiang Yan: “…”

He quietly picked up his chopsticks and started eating.

Under the warm, dim lamplight, the sharp lines of Jiang Yan’s face softened. His eating movements were unhurried and graceful—calm, elegant, almost mesmerizing.

What a sight, Jiang Ji thought, lips curving up slightly. Somehow, even the food tasted better.

They’d already shared a few meals together, even had a real conversation once—it all felt more natural now, more familiar.

After dinner, Jiang Ji rested a bit before changing Jiang Yan’s dressing. He had asked his viewers to help find the surgeon from previous time to check the wound’s healing progress.

【The recovery looks good. No reinfection. Avoid contact with water and spicy or irritating foods for now.】

Jiang Ji stepped outside the room to ask quietly, “Doctor, can he get out of bed tomorrow?”

【Yes, but avoid sudden movements. He should still rest as much as possible to prevent the wound from reopening.】

“Got it. Thank you, doctor.”

Back inside, before Jiang Ji could share the good news, Jiang Yan asked curiously, “Who were you talking to just now?”

“Huh?” Jiang Ji blinked.

“You heard me?” He was surprised—he’d gone all the way to the front hall and spoken softly, yet Jiang Yan had still heard?

“Yes. I didn’t catch what you said, though. Did someone come over?” Jiang Yan frowned. “I didn’t hear any footsteps.”

“You’ve got sharp ears, huh?” Jiang Ji said.

“You weren’t that far away,” Jiang Yan replied evenly.

“I was talking to myself.” Jiang Ji shrugged and went back to rewrapping the bandage. “You should be able to get out of bed tomorrow, but unless necessary, stay lying down and rest.”

Hearing that, Jiang Yan’s lips curved faintly. “Then I can finally use the latrine myself.”

“Better not.”

Jiang Yan: “?”

“The latrine’s too filthy,” Jiang Ji explained. “Too many bacteria.”

“Bac… teria?” Jiang Yan frowned slightly—he didn’t always understand Jiang Ji’s strange words.

“It means there are dirty things in places like that—things that could make your wound infected again.” Jiang Ji used words he would understand. “Until your wound’s fully healed, use the chamber pot for urination. As for, uh, the other one—I can get you a portable toilet.”

Jiang Yan: “…I can go to the latrine myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Jiang Ji said. Personally, he didn’t want to go anywhere near that latrine. “By the way, it’s been several days—you haven’t had a bowel movement yet.”

Jiang Yan: “…”

“Don’t be embarrassed. If you’re constipated, I can ask the doctor for medicine. Holding it in is bad for your health,” Jiang Ji added seriously. “That’s what the doctor said.”

Jiang Yan opened his mouth, hesitated, and finally said, “Are you always this… blunt?”

Jiang Ji suddenly laughed. “You must’ve been a scholar before—you talk so properly.”

Jiang Yan said nothing, so Jiang Ji continued, “I’ve always been straightforward. But I’m serious—you know, I’m basically your doctor now. Doctors are supposed to care about every part of a patient’s health.”

After finishing the bandaging, Jiang Ji packed up. “Alright, rest well. I need to talk to my mother about something.”

Zhao Ru had just finished bathing Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei. The two little rascals ran around with wet hair until she called them back to sit by the stove to dry it.

Jiang Ji helped pour out the bathwater, and then the family gathered around the fire.

“Mom, I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.” Zhao Ru figured it must be about the immortals—he’d mentioned it earlier when it got dark.

“The thing I gave you,” Jiang Ji said, “it works even better if used with special underpants. It’ll be more convenient. You’re good with sewing—I’ll draw it out for you so you can make it.”

“Alright, draw it.” Zhao Ru kept drying the boys’ hair while watching him.

That sanitary thing really was amazing, and hearing that there were matching underpants made her curious. The current menstrual belt was indeed a bit small and short.

Since there was no paper or ink at home, Jiang Ji took a stick and drew on the ground.

He read the female viewers’ comments—since fabrics in this era weren’t elastic, they’d need to tie the underwear with strings.

Following his understanding and their suggestions, Jiang Ji drew a pair of briefs connected by two strings.

When he finished, even his ears turned red. Why does this look so much like lingerie?

“Something like this,” he muttered, “you can adjust the size yourself—I’m not exactly an expert.”

Jiang Xia leaned over curiously. “What’s that?”

“Underpants,” Jiang Ji said. “You wear them close to your body.”

Zhao Ru studied the drawing, piecing it together with her earlier experience, and immediately understood. It solved exactly what she had been wondering about earlier.

Her eyes lit up. “I see. I’ll try making it.”

“The fabric needs to be soft and breathable,” Jiang Ji reminded her. “Buy some from town tomorrow. Oh, and there’s also something called a brassiere. It looks like this.”

The female viewers enthusiastically shared tips and even uploaded reference pictures. They suggested that since back clasps were hard to make, front ties or buttons would work better, and even mentioned adding soft padding.

“It’s better to use strings—it’s more flexible,” Jiang Ji explained, following their advice.

When Zhao Ru saw his drawing, she understood instantly. This type of brassiere would be perfect for summer—light, breathable, and it spared women from the discomfort of binding their chests.

“This too came from the immortals?”

“Yes.” Jiang Ji scratched his head, his face burning.

Jiang Xia understood as well, her cheeks pink, but she was excited. “Mom, if we make these, we could sell them in town!”

Jiang Ji reminded her, “You could, but it’s not very technical. Others might copy the design quickly.”

“Oh… you’re right,” Jiang Xia said, a little disappointed that it might not earn money.

Zhao Ru smiled, patting her head. “Silly girl, this kind of clothing is made at home. No one would buy it outside.”

Jiang Ji froze for a moment before realizing she was right.

In this conservative era, intimate garments weren’t sold openly, nor even talked about. Even saying “dudou” (chest wrap) aloud could get someone scolded for impropriety.

Still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t earn something—maybe from being the first to introduce it or selling the design.

Even if they made no profit, spreading it would still help countless women.

Jiang Ji comforted them. “It’s fine—we can give it a try. If no one buys it, you can wear it yourselves. We’ll think of other ways to make money.”

Zhao Ru then said thoughtfully, “Xiao Ji, what about that thing you gave me earlier—can we make that too?”

Jiang Ji wasn’t too sure about the sanitary pads, so he checked the audience comments. “We can’t make the exact same thing. A simpler version would need cotton and waterproof fabric—it’d be expensive, and ordinary people couldn’t afford it. The profit would be tiny.”

Cotton hadn’t yet been widely cultivated—it was rare and costly.

“What a pity. It’s such a good thing,” Zhao Ru sighed, wishing every woman could use one.

Seeing her disappointment, Jiang Ji said, “But the immortals gave me high-yield cotton seeds. We can sell those and let people start planting them. In a few years, once cotton becomes common and cheaper, we can try making these products again.”

“High-yield seeds?” Jiang Xia said excitedly. “Then let’s plant all the land at the foot of the mountain with cotton—we can make a lot of money!”

Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei had been listening, not understanding most of it, but the word “cotton” caught their attention. Jiang Bei asked, “Then we’ll have new winter clothes by New Year?”

Because cotton was expensive, ordinary farmers could only grow enough for one or two padded garments a year. Some even sold their cotton for grain instead. Most people wore padding made from kapok, willow fluff, reeds, or animal fur—or just thick hemp cloth.

Jiang Ji’s coat was an old one left by their father, and Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei’s were refitted from his older ones.

“If the cotton harvest is good this year,” Zhao Ru promised with a smile, “I’ll make you both new padded coats.”

After chatting for a while, Jiang Ji went to bathe, while Zhao Ru took out her sewing basket and began experimenting with making the underwear and bra.

Once he finished washing, Jiang Ji took Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei to bed.

With the new beds and blankets, the two little ones were thrilled—they rolled around giggling before finally settling down.

Each took a side of the bed. As Jiang Ji tucked them in and turned to leave, Jiang Bei asked curiously, “Brother, aren’t you sleeping yet?”

“I am,” Jiang Ji replied. “I’m sleeping with Jiang Yan.”

Jiang Bei poked his head out from under the blanket. “You’re not sleeping with us anymore?”

“There are two beds now. No way I’m sleeping with you two again—you sleep like you’re boxing. I keep getting kicked awake.”

Jiang Nan huffed. “I never kicked you. I don’t even remember doing that.”

Jiang Bei murmured, “Me neither.”

“You two sleep like little pigs—how would you know?” Jiang Ji said, tucking in their blankets. “Keep yourselves covered, don’t kick the quilt off tonight.”

“Okay.”

Jiang Ji walked over to the other bed and looked at Jiang Yan. “We’re sleeping here.”

“Alright.” Jiang Yan was still awake; he’d heard their conversation and couldn’t exactly refuse.

He started to move inward, but Jiang Ji stopped him. “Don’t move. I’ll take the inside.”

He took off his outer robe, climbed into bed, and leaned over Jiang Yan to blow out the oil lamp on the table.

The bed was about a meter and a half wide, but with two grown men, they couldn’t help brushing against each other.

Jiang Ji glanced at the streaming comments floating in his vision, posted a short notice to end the broadcast, and closed it.

He now had the right to open and close his livestream freely—saving himself from a lot of awkward moments.

“What are you doing?” Jiang Yan asked quietly, watching him gesture at thin air.

“Nothing,” Jiang Ji replied, turning toward him. “You’re still awake?”

“Slept too much during the day.”

“Not used to sharing a bed with me, huh?” Jiang Ji asked outright.

Jiang Yan: …

Truthfully, Jiang Ji wasn’t used to it either. But after a few days in this world, he had gradually adapted.

After all, working hard all day left him exhausted—by the time night came, he fell asleep the moment he lay down. No time to think about anything else.

He figured Jiang Yan was just unaccustomed to company, and maybe too well-rested from the day to fall asleep easily, making him more aware of someone beside him.

Jiang Ji smiled faintly. “You’ll get used to it. Don’t worry, I sleep very quietly. Won’t bother you.”

He wasn’t lying—he didn’t thrash in his sleep. But he did curl up, hook an arm around whoever was next to him, and nuzzle his head into their chest.

Jiang Yan felt the soft, warm weight of a head nestling against his neck, the man’s breath brushing against his skin, tickling faintly.

He shifted slightly, but Jiang Ji soon rolled right back against him.

Jiang Yan gave up moving—any farther and he’d fall off the bed.

With a quiet sigh, he stared up at the pitch-dark ceiling for a long time before finally drifting off to sleep.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

After lunch, Jiang Ji rested for a bit, then went out with Zhao Ru, pulling the handcart together.

They walked to the main road but didn’t go farther—instead, they turned onto a small path and exchanged another bed and quilt from the system.

Though Zhao Ru looked delicate, she was used to farm work and had plenty of strength. Together, they lifted the bed onto the cart, tied it down securely, and pulled it back home.

Once the new bed was set up, Jiang Ji took the borrowed door panel and bedding back to Aunt Xiufang’s house.

When he returned, he went to the kitchen to wash his hands and saw Zhao Ru squatting by the stove with her back to him, doing something he couldn’t quite see.

Curious, he walked over—only to find she was stuffing plant ash into a long narrow cloth bag.

“Mom, what are you doing with that ash?”

Startled, Zhao Ru jumped. She hadn’t expected him back so soon. In a hurry, she stuffed the cloth strip into her clothes. “N-nothing! You’re back already?”

Her guilty reaction was too obvious. Jiang Ji blinked in surprise but didn’t press. “Ah, I’m just washing my hands.”

He carried the water out to wash up, rubbing his hands as he thought to himself, Is she hiding something from me?

Just as he finished, intending to ask, Zhao Ru hurried into her room—and closed the door.

Jiang Ji was baffled. Once all the chores were done, he figured he could relax for a bit. He opened the livestream—but was instantly thrown off by the barrage of comments.

【Women in ancient times really had it hard】
【I can’t even imagine living like that—using ash, no way】
【That’s just how it was. No supplies, and even when they were sick, they couldn’t tell anyone】

“What are you all talking about?” Jiang Ji asked, confused.

【You’re finally reading the chat! Go exchange some sanitary pads for your mom】
【Your mom’s on her period—don’t let her use ash like that!】

“Sanitary… pads?” Jiang Ji froze. “What’s that got to do with ash?”

【Oh, you clueless child… In ancient times there were no pads! Women had to use plant ash stuffed into cloth as menstrual pads—the thing you just saw her making!】
【Yeah, back then, if you couldn’t afford fabric, you’d use ash as a pad.】
【Hurry up and use the system to exchange some for her!】

Jiang Ji stood there, stunned.

Ash? They used ash as sanitary pads?

That was filthy—and horribly unhygienic! Wouldn’t that cause infections?

But the system’s second batch of daily goods hadn’t been unlocked yet. He immediately called out, “2977, I need to exchange for some sanitary pads!”

The electronic voice responded: 【Sanitary pads are considered a post-era item and are not yet available for exchange. To unlock them, the host must complete a system task.】

“What task?”

【The host must personally till the plot of land beside the house.】

The plot next to their house was divided into two small sections—one with leeks, the other, which used to have cabbage, was empty after the last harvest, waiting for spring planting.

“Fine, just till the land. I’ll do it.”

Recalling how the original owner had done it, Jiang Ji grabbed a shovel and headed out.

Just as he reached the door, he ran into Zhao Ru. Seeing the shovel, she asked, “Xiaoji, where are you off to?”

“I’m going to turn the soil by the house. Let it dry a few days, then it’ll be ready for planting.”

Looking at his mother, Jiang Ji felt a pang of sympathy.

Women in ancient times really had it rough.

“Oh, alright. I’ll go buy a chicken.”

“Mm.”

Jiang Ji stepped out with his shovel. Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei were at the gate playing with a few village kids.

“Brother, where are you going?” Jiang Bei ran up to ask.

“Going to till the field. You two keep playing. Where’s Xia?”

“Second Sister went digging for wild onions after you got back. She said she’s making onion omelets tonight. Look—over there.”

Jiang Ji followed the direction of his finger and saw Jiang Xia’s figure in the distance.

The weather had been warming lately, spring growth everywhere—wild onions and greens sprouting fast. Many women were out in the fields digging them up.

“Oh, got it. You two remember to check on Jiang Yan later. See if he wants water or needs help with the chamber pot, alright?”

“Got it, Brother.”

Jiang Ji walked to the field. The leek patch, freshly weeded and watered that morning by Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia, was thriving—taller than a few days ago.

Next to it was the empty patch, about fifteen or sixteen meters long and one and a half meters wide.

Jiang Ji began turning the soil just like the original owner used to—pressing his foot on the shovel, pushing down, levering the handle, and flipping the soil over.

“2977 told me to finish tilling this plot,” Jiang Ji said to the livestream audience. “Heh, I thought it’d be tough—but it’s actually pretty easy.”

【You’re getting cocky now】
【Looks easy enough】
【Yeah, it’s just manual labor】

It was manual labor—no technique needed, but tiring all the same.

After about three meters, Jiang Ji stopped to catch his breath, leaning on the shovel. Sweat beaded on his forehead; he was already getting tired.

【Tired already?】
【Seems simple enough, huh】
【Come on, you got this!】

“You guys are all talk,” Jiang Ji grumbled. “It’s simple, sure—but it’s still exhausting! I’m human, not a machine.”

After a short rest, he got back to work.

“Farm work really is just pure muscle,” he said, chatting as he dug. “This is why I don’t want to be a farmer—bent over dirt all day, breaking your back.”

【Then what do you want to do?】
【Start a business maybe—anything’s better than farming】
【Problem is, what can you even do?】

“Ah, brother, you’ve hit me right where it hurts,” Jiang Ji admitted honestly. “I don’t really have any particular skills… but I can make money.”

【How are you going to make money?】

【Are you going to sell the goods you exchange from the system?】

“No, not exactly. The modern items I can exchange—I’ll study those later. Right now, the most urgent thing is spring plowing. You know, the crops here are incredibly limited, and the yields are pitifully low. There are so many things they don’t even have yet.”

Over the past few days, Jiang Ji had been thinking about this.

When he exchanged vegetables from the system, he noticed that this world had very few kinds of vegetables available in winter—only radishes, cabbage, leeks, carrots, celery, winter amaranth, and winter melon preserved from summer.

And it wasn’t just in winter—there were many missing crops in other seasons too.

From the original body’s memories, he knew that people here mostly lived on rice, millet, broomcorn, and wheat. The staple grains varied slightly between north and south, but either way, the yield was terribly low. A single mu of paddy field produced only about two to three hundred jin of rice, and wheat wasn’t much better.

After paying the imperial tax, there was hardly anything left. They still had to keep some grain for planting, and the remaining one or two hundred jin wasn’t nearly enough to feed a family.

For most farmers, surviving the winter was a struggle. Every year, many people starved to death.

And crops like sweet potatoes, corn, and potatoes—those lifesaving staples from the modern world—didn’t exist here at all. The original body had never even heard of them.

If he could introduce crops like sweet potatoes—easy to grow, long-lasting, and filling—it could easily save half the population from starvation.

The farmers here lived such bitter, grinding lives that Jiang Ji couldn’t bear to just watch.

He had already made up his mind. Spring planting was about to start, and he would spread these valuable staple crops far and wide.

He shared his plan with his livestream audience. “When the time comes, I’ll use my points to exchange for modern seeds. I can sell them, promote new crop varieties, and earn some startup money—all at once. Two birds with one stone.”

【That’s a surprisingly noble goal】
【Agriculture was so primitive back then—it’s good that you want to help them】
【But if you sell modern seeds, you’ll have to teach people how to plant them. Otherwise, they won’t know what to do. What, are they supposed to figure it out themselves?】

Jiang Ji flipped another patch of soil and said confidently, “That’s not a problem. Remember that farming skill I haven’t claimed yet?”

【I think that’s only a basic skill, though】
【Are you sure basic farming skills include how to grow modern crops?】

“That skill is basically a summary of ancient agricultural techniques from my previous world,” Jiang Ji explained. “Sweet potatoes and other crops existed in ancient China. Plus, there’s an intermediate farming skill too. 2977 said the intermediate level is equivalent to modern agricultural knowledge.”

He opened the system interface. “Intermediate Farming Skill—unlocks when daily viewer count reaches five million.”

【Whoa, five million in one day!】
【That’s a steep requirement】

“Come on, brothers and sisters, I’m counting on you!” Jiang Ji grinned. “I believe in you all!”

Just then, Jiang Xia came back with a half basket of wild onions. Seeing him still digging, she said, “Brother, take a rest if you’re tired. I’ll help in a bit.”

Jiang Ji quickly waved her off—he had to finish this plot alone for the system task.

“Hey, Xia’er, don’t bother. It’s almost done. I can handle it.”

“There’s still half left!”

“I’ll finish soon. Go help Mom with dinner instead.”

“Alright.”

【Such a considerate little sister】
【She’s been working nonstop this whole time】

Jiang Ji sighed. “Yeah, Xia’er’s a good kid. The original me was the same—always working. That’s why he got so tanned.”

He added, “Our family only had one mu of dry land and two mu of rice fields. The paddies have already been fully cultivated—no more to expand. So during the off-season, the original me went to reclaim wasteland at the mountain’s base. He already cleared three mu of new land.”

“But that wasteland’s still rough. The weeds grow like crazy. You pull them one day, and after one rain, they’re back. Even if the whole family works from dawn to dusk, the yield barely amounts to anything.”

He sighed again. “Life was really tough.”

【That’s how land reclamation works—it takes years for the soil to become fertile】
【Poor kid, really had a hard life】

Jiang Ji chatted with the audience as he worked, pausing now and then to rest. By the time the sun set, he finally finished the whole plot.

Excited, he ran home, washed his hands thoroughly, and pulled Zhao Ru into her room, closing the door behind them.

Seeing his secretive expression, Zhao Ru asked, “What’s going on?”

“Just wait a sec, Mom.” Jiang Ji opened the system interface and clicked “Claim Reward.”

In the next instant, three packages of sanitary pads appeared on the old dressing table.

“What’s this?” Zhao Ru asked curiously, picking one up and examining it, having no idea what it was for.

It was Jiang Ji’s first time holding sanitary pads too, and his face turned a little red. Still, he took a look—there seemed to be different kinds in each pack.

He read the instructions carefully and finally understood how they worked.

But another problem came to mind: ancient undergarments weren’t like modern ones. How was she supposed to attach it?

He turned to the livestream. “Hey, any ladies here? They don’t have underwear in this era—just long pants. How’s she supposed to use these? Should I exchange for some underwear too? But modern clothes aren’t unlocked yet.”

【You don’t need modern underwear】
【She can stick it onto her old menstrual cloth belt】
【Or you could just teach her to sew something similar to modern underwear】

“Ah? I see,” Jiang Ji said, scratching his head. “Got it.”

Zhao Ru looked at him in confusion. “Who are you talking to?”

“The immortals,” Jiang Ji said quickly. He took out one of the sanitary pads—his face a little hot, but his tone serious. “Mom, this is called a sanitary pad. It’s something you use during your monthly period. Please don’t use that plant ash anymore—it’s unsanitary and could make you sick.”

Zhao Ru’s face turned bright red. “You child, how do you even know about that?”

She hurriedly took the pad from his hands. “Don’t touch these things!”

Jiang Ji was a bit bewildered, but he pressed on earnestly. “Mom, the immortals told me to show you how to use it first.”

“Th-the immortals told me to use it?” Hearing that it was the immortals’ instruction, Zhao Ru hesitated slightly.

“Yes. The immortals said it’s made of cotton—it’s comfortable and hygienic.” Jiang Ji opened one of the sanitary pads. “Look, Mom, this is how you use it.”

His ears were burning red as he demonstrated the process step by step. “These two packs are for daytime use, and this longer one is for nighttime. You have to change them often. Once you’ve used one, throw it away—don’t reuse it. U-understood?”

“…Understood.” Hearing her son explain women’s matters like this, Zhao Ru felt awkward and embarrassed too.

After thinking for a moment, Jiang Ji added, “After dinner, I’ll show you how to make the undergarment part. That’ll make it easier to use.”

When he finished speaking, he quickly left the room.

Zhao Ru looked down at the thing in her hands—soft, thin, snow-white, and spotless. Even the paper backing was made of a material she had never seen before.

She took out a clean menstrual cloth belt and curiously tried using it as he’d shown.

An hour later, she quietly went back to check—no leaks, no stains.

She was astonished.

So this was truly a gift from the immortals—what an incredible invention!

If only we could make something like this ourselves…

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾

Jiang Ji and Zhao Ru came home one after the other. With their debts repaid and the household gradually improving, Zhao Ru visibly grew lighter and happier by the day.

Jiang Nan was tending the stove, stirring a pot while holding a skewer of candied haws in his free hand, licking the glossy sugar layer in tiny bites and smacking his lips in satisfaction.

Jiang Xia was at the kitchen doorway, washing carrots. Jiang Bei crouched beside her, holding a skewer in each hand—eating from the one in his left while occasionally feeding Jiang Xia a bite from the one in his right.

Like his brother, Jiang Bei had barely eaten a single hawthorn; he was too busy savoring the sweet coating.

“Second Sister, the candied haws are so sweet! They’re so good!”

“Mm.” Back when their father was still alive, their family life hadn’t been so hard, and Jiang Xia had tasted candied haws before. She bit into one whole, eyes squinting in pleasure, and added, “It’s a little sour inside.”

It was Jiang Bei’s first time eating them, and he widened his eyes. “It’s sour inside?”

“Mm-hmm, a little,” Jiang Xia said. “You have to eat it together—the sweet and the sour. If you lick off all the sugar first, it’ll just be sour later.”

She herself used to do that—lick the sugar clean and abandon the rest because it was too sour. Their mother would always finish the leftovers.

“Ah?” Jiang Bei hesitated, frowning a little. “Then I’ll eat it all together.”

He bit into it and found that, sure enough, the mix of sweet and tart was just right. He turned to his brother and passed on the wisdom. “Jiang Nan, Second Sister says you have to eat it all together.”

Watching the scene, Jiang Ji couldn’t help feeling a little moved.

Making money really does buy happiness—now they even have candy freedom.

He took a skewer for himself. After days of bitter medicine dulling his taste buds, the sugary glaze and sharp tang of hawthorn hit his tongue, flooding his mouth with that sweet-and-sour spark that made him crave more.

Not bad at all. He rubbed the bump on his head—it had already gone down by half. Two more days and it’d be gone completely.

“Jiang Bei, did you give Jiang Yan his candied haws?”

Jiang Bei nodded obediently. “I did, but he said he didn’t want it.”

“Oh? Did anything happen with him this morning?”

“No, I went in to check on him. He didn’t need anything. I brought him water, but he didn’t drink it.”

Jiang Ji raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t ask you for the chamber pot either?”

Jiang Bei shook his head. “Nope.”

Jiang Ji thought for a moment. Could it be he’s avoiding drinking water so he doesn’t have to get up to pee?

He’d had porridge and water with his medicine in the morning, but that couldn’t last all day…

Finishing off the candied haws in a few bites, Jiang Ji went to check on him.

The door was closed. Jiang Ji quietly opened it and stepped inside. The moment he did, Jiang Yan—who had appeared to be resting with his eyes closed—snapped them open instantly.

So alert?

Seeing that he was awake, Jiang Ji walked to the bedside and asked bluntly, “Jiang Bei said you didn’t call anyone all morning. Need to relieve yourself?”

Jiang Yan froze, his expression turning a little awkward. “How did you know…”

“No need to be embarrassed,” Jiang Ji said matter-of-factly. “Holding it in is bad for your kidneys—and it’ll mess with your rest.”

Jiang Yan fell silent.

Jiang Ji went out, brought back the chamber pot, handed it over, then stepped out again.

A while later, he returned, emptied it, rinsed it clean, and set it at the foot of the bed. “Here—let’s just keep it here by your bed. You can reach for it whenever you need. Sound good?”

Jiang Yan nodded. “That’s fine.”

Jiang Ji eyed him, then glanced at the pot, guessing from the weight earlier, and asked suspiciously, “Don’t tell me… you were waiting for me to come back before you went?”

Jiang Yan lowered his eyes without speaking.

That silence was as good as an admission.

Jiang Ji couldn’t help laughing softly. Still, he could understand—this man barely knew anyone here. He probably felt too awkward to ask the two little boys for help, and there was no way he’d let Zhao Ru fetch the chamber pot for him. So, he had just waited until Jiang Ji came back, holding it in until he couldn’t anymore.

A man who didn’t like troubling others—and one with a strong sense of pride.

“What if I hadn’t come back all day? Would you have held it the whole time?”

Jiang Yan paused. His fair, handsome face reddened slightly, but he still looked up and met Jiang Ji’s eyes. “You said you’d be back by noon.”

“And what if something came up and I was delayed?”

Jiang Yan said nothing.

Jiang Ji chuckled to himself, then continued, “No need to be so formal. Feel free to ask Jiang Nan and Jiang Bei for help—they won’t mind. It’s only for a couple more days anyway.”

“When can I get out of bed?” Jiang Yan asked.

“That depends on how your wounds heal. Maybe another day or two,” Jiang Ji said. Though I should probably check with the doctor, he thought.

“How long until I’m fully healed?”

“Maybe a week or two… seven to fifteen days, give or take. Depends on how your body recovers. Don’t rush it—rest well, and you’ll get better faster.”

Before long, Zhao Ru and Jiang Xia had finished cooking lunch—stir-fried carrots with pork, cabbage, and a wild greens soup.

Even though they now had silver and Jiang Ji’s “treasure” could produce goods, Zhao Ru still lived frugally. But she made a special steamed egg dish just for the injured man.

Jiang Ji wiped down a square table from the main room and moved it beside Jiang Yan’s bed—it would make eating and changing his dressings much easier.

Zhao Ru brought over the dishes, set them down, and said apologetically, “It’s just a simple meal for now. I’ll go buy a chicken this afternoon and make some soup to nourish you.”

Jiang Yan quickly replied, “This is already very good, Auntie. No need to trouble yourself.”

“The doctor said you lost a lot of blood—you need to build your strength.” Zhao Ru looked at his pale face, already planning to add red dates to the soup. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll leave you be.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

When Zhao Ru left, Jiang Ji looked at the man eating alone and suddenly remembered his own past life. After his mother’s death, his father rarely came home, and he had eaten most of his meals by himself. No matter how good the food was, it always felt tasteless—and lonely.

He raised a brow. “Want some company while you eat?”

Jiang Yan picked up his chopsticks, glanced at him, and said, “As you wish.”

Smiling, Jiang Ji went to the kitchen, filled a bowl with food, and sat across from him.

In front of Jiang Yan were five small bowls—carrot pork stir-fry, cabbage, steamed egg, wild vegetable soup, and a bowl of white rice.

Jiang Ji had only a larger bowl with the carrot pork and cabbage.

Jiang Yan pushed the bowl of steamed egg toward him. “You have some too.”

Jiang Ji blinked, then smiled. “You eat it. My mom made that especially for you—to help you recover.”

“Tell her she doesn’t need to make extra for me,” Jiang Yan said. “I can eat the same as you all.”

Jiang Ji wasn’t one to hide his thoughts. He preferred things out in the open.

“Just eat it,” he said with a sigh, his expression sincere. “My mom feels bad for taking so much silver from you. If you don’t eat it, she’ll feel guilty. So do us both a favor and eat, alright?”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Jiang Yan lowered his eyes and nodded. “Alright.”

They ate quietly for a while before Jiang Ji suddenly said, “I went into town this morning and walked around a bit.”

Jiang Yan looked up, waiting for him to continue.

“I didn’t see any missing-person notices posted anywhere,” Jiang Ji said, watching his face. “No one was out on the streets asking around, and the county office was quiet too.”

Jiang Yan froze. “You mean…?”

“I mean,” Jiang Ji continued thoughtfully, “you probably aren’t from around here.”

Jiang Yan stared at him, surprised that Jiang Ji had not only gone into town but had also thought to check if anyone was looking for him.

Swallowing a mouthful of rice, Jiang Ji went on, “You’re covered in wounds. I don’t know if bandits did it or if it was personal enemies, so I didn’t dare ask directly. Didn’t want to accidentally draw attention to you.”

Jiang Yan fell silent for a moment, understanding what he meant. It was very likely he’d been attacked by enemies—after all, his jade pendant and silver notes were still on him. If it had been bandits, they would’ve taken everything.

He looked up and asked quietly, “Aren’t you afraid? If I really was being hunted by enemies, and they found me here…”

Jiang Ji tilted his head, thinking it over, then nodded honestly. “Well, a little. But still—how could I just leave someone to die? Besides, it’s been two or three days now, and no strangers have shown up in the village. So maybe it wasn’t enemies. Maybe you escaped from a robbery and made it here.”

Jiang Yan’s eyes softened slightly. His voice was low. “Thank you.”

“No need for that,” Jiang Ji replied. Then he leaned forward a bit, lowering his voice. “You know, I think you might’ve come from pretty far away.”

Jiang Yan’s gaze deepened. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” Jiang Ji said, “we’re close to town—only half an hour’s walk. The county office is right there. Bandits wouldn’t dare set up camp nearby; that’d be suicide. The nearest bandit den I’ve heard of is at least a hundred li away.”

That did make sense. Jiang Yan asked, “What’s that place called—about a hundred li away?” Maybe it was somewhere he had once passed through or where he’d been injured.

Jiang Ji searched his inherited memories. “I think it’s called Gulu Ridge… or maybe Hulu Ridge? I heard about it when I worked in town before, can’t remember exactly. If you want, I can ask around next time.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Jiang Yan said, sincerely this time.

After lunch, Jiang Ji cleared the dishes and left the room.

Jiang Yan leaned back against the headboard and took out the green jade pendant from under his pillow. The carving depicted clouds, cranes, and a boat drifting on a lake.

He stared at it for a long time. His mind was blank—no memories surfaced, nothing came to him at all.

He sighed, put the jade pendant back under his pillow, and lay down to rest with his eyes closed.

From what he had seen, Jiang Ji’s family seemed to be honest and kind people. Until his body recovered, he could only stay here for now.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾